


Again

by AromaticAromantic



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deceit has PTSD, Gen, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Sided Love, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, and good friends, anxiety and deceit are old friends, at least they are now, for now, just so you know, roman and virgil are very much in love and its good, theres a lot, triggers in individual chapters, tw abuse, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 75,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AromaticAromantic/pseuds/AromaticAromantic
Summary: One year ago Deceit broke up with his boyfriend, and although life is better, he can't seem to escape the past. But after a bad flashback in the middle of his dormitory, he gains new friends who get him help and support him through his recovery, however long it may take. Nobody ever said it'd be easy to recover, but at least he doesn't have to do it alone.AKA. I project onto Deceit heavily.(Note: Updates may slow a little due to health reasons.)





	1. Don't Let Me Get Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Lots of reference and descriptions of abuse. Very much a vent fic. Implied homophobia, people being outed against their will, trauma, descriptions of panic attacks/flashbacks. Um...brief mention of suicide and self injury. I think that’s it?
> 
> Chapter Summary: Deceit is a liar, and known for being an asshole. He’s also lonely, afraid and suffering from trauma left by his ex boyfriend. The sides want to help, but it’d be easier if he didn’t isolate himself so much.

Deceit had broken up with his boyfriend exactly one year, three months and fifteen days ago.

It didn’t change as much as he’d expected. He still had no friends, for example, and his self esteem was still at an all time low. But he’d moved into one of the university dorms, and he had a job, so that was something.

The job was dull and repetitive, but it paid him minimum wage, and the company hadn’t asked too many questions about the strange scarring on his face that looked almost like snake scales. That was good enough for him.

The dorm was fine, except that he was sharing with four people who absolutely hated him. He’d begged Dr Picani for a change, claiming every possible lie he could think of, but his reputation preceded him. He’d been flatly refused, gently told to make friends, and he’d left angry and hurt.

He didn’t want to make friends. Friends were a one way ticket to being hurt, and like hell was he being hurt again.

 

“ _Dude, you were meant to come over last night,” hissed Virgil._

“ _I know, I’m sorry,” Deceit mumbled, then smiles hopefully, “my boyfriend was feeling really down and asked me to stay, and you know...I figured, just this once...”_

_Virgil rolled his eyes. “Please, he just likes you spending time with him rather than me. He’s a weirdo.”_

 

He had awful sleep problems, and it was winding up his dorm mates. He just couldn’t bear to be in bed, and sometimes just being in his room was too much. He tried to be useful by tidying up and cleaning, but Virgil had told him outright he didn’t trust him, and told the others that he was probably up to something.

Admittedly, sneering and mocking the emo wasn’t the best response, but he had panicked, and his immediate response was to try push them away, make them get fed up and not want to interact with him. Usually it worked.

Sometimes it didn’t, because Virgil was unpredictable. Today was one such day. It was midnight, he was tired, but he was going to scrub the plates until his hands bled, because otherwise he’d need to go to bed. And he just couldn’t handle that today. But apparently he’d been making too much noise, because Roman sent Virgil to go complain.

“Please, Virgil, at least I’m helping out,” he sneers, “what do you do, hm? When was the last time you were actually _useful?”_

Virgil snarls, almost animalistically, and shoves Deceit against the wall with the sort of strength nobody expects from a 120lb emo kid. He starts to snap at Deceit, telling him to shut up and just be nice for once, but freezes when he sees Deceit crying. He lets go, alarmed, and Deceit just drops to the floor sobbing.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry please don’t hurt me!” he cries, “please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“What? Hey- Dee, it’s fine, I’m not going to...”

Deceit couldn’t hear him though, mind stuck in one of the dozens of times he’d been smacked and yelled at and kicked for his language. He could hear the yelling, hear the dangerous low tone of voice reserved for when he’d _really_ messed up.

He could see his boyfriend clear as day, even smell the deodorant he always wore, and his body ached as he felt the pain all over again. All he could do was tense up and sob, begging for forgiveness.

He doesn’t even feel Logan trying to get through to him, or hear Patton calling Dr Picani, or Roman comfort Virgil.

Eventually he came too, lying down in the kitchen with the pink haired doctor sat by him, offering a square of chocolate and a snake plushie. He took both gingerly. The chocolate was bitter, but slowly brought him back to the present, whilst the plushie was just too cute to turn down.

“Would you like to talk about what happened?”

Deceit lies, of course. It’s no use though. Dr Picani doesn’t even believe him, instead humming then bringing up his boyfriend.

“You two broke up a year ago, correct?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I think you’d benefit from some counselling. See me on Monday, ok? My office, three o’clock.”

Deceit doesn’t know whether or not to go.

 

“ _Why’d you out me like that?” Virgil snarled, shoving Deceit against the locker in a wild fury, “do you have any idea what you’ve done? What my parents said?”_

_Deceit stumbled over his words as he tried to explain, desperately protesting and trying not to wince at Virgil’s grip on him. He had so desperately tried to tell him that he really hadn’t, and he would never out someone like that. Especially since he knew what Virgil’s parents were like. And besides, why would he hurt his best friend?_

“ _Virge, I didn’t – I wouldn’t – you know me!”_

“ _Oh yeah? Funny, cause the texts came from your phone.”_

_Virgil had tears in his eyes and tightened his grip as Deceit tried to stutter out an excuse, too afraid to tell the truth. How could he explain that his boyfriend had taken his phone that night? Virgil would think he was stupid, just like his boyfriend always said. What sort of idiot lets someone take their phone?_

_What sort of idiot dates someone that rips their phone out of their hands, yelling at them and accusing them of cheating for having their childhood friend’s phone number?_

_Virgil let him drop, snarled at him something that he doesn’t quite catch, and stormed off, leaving him alone. Alone because he’d lost his only friend, alone because once everyone knew about this he’d never make another friend in this school._

_He’d cried that night, but forced himself to try believe his boyfriend when he told him how it was for the best, that he didn’t need Virgil anyways, because he had him. What else did he need?_

 

He ended up going.

Dr Picani was warm and welcoming, and didn’t comment on Deceit holding the plush snake throughout. Deceit doesn’t talk much, only lies a few times, lies that Dr Picani sees through easily, and eventually explains that he just doesn’t know what the point of him being here is.

“Sometimes relationships are difficult,” the doctor says gently, “they can hurt us. But it’s better to talk about it than keep it all bottled up.”

Deceit goes to leave, only to be given another appointment, which he relcuantly accepted. Even if it was silly. He didn’t need to talk, all talking did was get you into trouble, get you hurt.

He’d been actively avoiding his dorm mates since the incident, but he couldn’t hide forever, especially when he still shared classes with them.

In Ancient History Logan sits next to him, silent for most of the lesson, only speaking up at the end.

“I don’t know who hurt you, but you’re safe with us.”

Deceit tenses up, and feels a rush of feelings, so intense that it leaves him light headed. He wants to ride the relief, seek comfort, sob and tell Logan everything, but instead cold fear hits him like a brick wall. He could never be safe with others. The only way to keep himself safe was to be alone.

“Whatever you say, Nerd.”

He ups his insults, lies more, does everything in his power to put Logan off, but he swears he hears Logan and the others talk about him in hushed, sympathetic tones. He’s sure Logan sits a little closer, no longer talking to him, but there in silent reassurance.

He doesn’t understand why. He doesn’t understand why he likes it a little. But he won’t let himself talk to Logan, or accept any form of friendship. He doesn’t get why Logan – or anyone, really – would want to, either. It was no secret he was a bit of a dick, insulting people, lying and manipulating his way through life.

(Sure, only in the last few years, but he’d developed enough of a reputation that he didn’t see the point in trying to stop.)

Roman tries to talk to him in Music, and Deceit simply sings louder and plays the violin loud enough that it drowns out the talk. Roman keeps trying, Deceit keeps ignoring him, like a game of cat and mouse.

He knows he should be kinder to Roman, who so desperately tries to help out. He’s seen the scrawled poetry in his sketchbook, after all. Poems about being trapped, about people wanting to hurt you, about the world being dangerous. He’s overheard Roman whimper in his sleep, and knows he shouldn’t add to the hurt.

Yet every time Roman reaches out to him he flinches away and snaps at him, regretting his actions a bit too late.

Virgil and Patton are clearly trying too, but it’s easier to push them away. There’s enough bad blood between himself and Virgil that a few harsh words keep him at arms length. And Patton is sensitive, easy to hurt, and despite how much Deceit wants to protect him, he can’t let himself do it.

He had to look out for himself.

“Max Stirner was right,” he says confidently in his philosophy class, staring dead at Patton, “everyone’s an egoist. The difference, Patton, is that I know it, and you don’t.”

As far as he was concerned, it was true. He looked out for himself. He focused on survival and keeping himself safe. And he’d do anything for that. Doing anything less would be suicide in this world, or so he told himself.

“Then why did I help you when you had that nightmare, huh?” Patton hisses quietly to him, “how did that benefit me?”

He didn’t have an answer,

He reluctantly tells Dr Picani about his nightmares after that class though, about how he woke up with his heart racing, in cold sweat. About the clarity and the hyperrealism that left him shaking. The way he relived his worst memories, or felt the same fear rush over him as his dreams contorted into something horrific.

“Sometimes,” he whispers, “sometimes I wake up screaming, and I’m frozen and panicked and I just...I don’t know...”

He almost wishes he’d asked Logan to join him, because Logan was better at explaining stuff.

 

_Logan was furious at him for not completing his half of the project. They’d failed the assignment, and whilst it’d barely make a dent in Logan’s grade his anger was understandable._

_Deceit tried to look uncaring, smiling sweetly as Logan yells at him. He tried not to let the volume get to him, tried not to let himself flinch, show weakness. Instead he cut off the person he’d hoped to be friends with, claiming he just didn’t care. He didn’t bother telling the truth._

_The truth wasn’t much better, in his opinion. Being guilted into forgetting the project, being offered pretty flowers and soft affection in fvaour of finishing the presentation. The way he gave in, hoping the softness would last. He so badly craved the hand stroking his hair that it almost made up for the time his lover had ripped out a patch of hair that never quite grew back._

_After he lied to Logan he lied to himself and said it made up for everything._

 

He didn’t have motivation to do his university assignments, and spent a lot of time at the weekend lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. The others had quietly invited him to go out with them, but he’d told them to go away. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t regret that decision.

Some days he swears he misses his boyfriend, but he’d never return. He knows all too well what would happen if he did, and the fear keeps him plastered to the ground, too intense to continue imagining making up.

He tells this to Dr Picani, who nods in understanding. He tells Deceit to be gentler on himself.

“He was a part of your life for a long time,” he says softly, “it’s only natural for you to feel this way.”

He’s told he deserves better, but he doesn’t believe it. He knows he deserved it all. He knows he left because he didn’t want to face up to that. At least, he thinks so. Some days his memory feels blurry and fuzzy, and he can’t quite work out his reasoning. He wants to assume it was a good one, but he doesn’t believe it.

 

_Patton hated liars, and Deceit knew that. He also knew Patton was trying to be friendly_ _with him, and he had no intention of making his boyfriend angry by allowing it to happen any longer._

_So whenever he had the chance he’d lie through his teeth. Arrange to meet up, then never turn up, and force a laugh, claiming he couldn’t believe Patton fell for it. He hated seeing the boy’s face crumple, hated seeing him cry, hated the way he ran off._

_He threw up in the bathroom not long after, and later that night had been unable to get himself to eat. He’d quietly told his boyfriend he wasn’t hungry, hoping to be reassured, but instead got told that was good. That he was eating too much anyways._

“ _You’ll look like an elephant soon,” they’d said, eating his portion and continuing what they were saying._

_Deceit considered saying something, but let himself stay silent, staring across at his lover and trying to look interested. At least he was safe, he’d told himself, glancing at his arm and remembering the bruises the last time someone was friendly to him. So much safer to have lied to make Patton leave him alone._

_In the following days he heard people calling him names, calling him a liar, manipulative, a bully. Patton didn’t even look at him in class, and it made his stomach knot every time._

 

He’d been seeing Dr Picani weekly for three months, and he didn’t think it was helping. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the full truth, or what exactly happened. He wanted to, but he just couldn’t. Most days he’d just spend the hour staring at the doctor, but occassionally he’d open up, just a little.

Enough to make him vulnerable. It terrified him.

He yells at the doctor one day, screaming at him and scratching at his own arms, raking his nails down. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really. He knows he’s hurting, and everything feels so _fuzzy_ and _blurry_.

At some point he starts crying, blurting out details he’d wanted to take to his grave. How a patch of hair still hasn’t grown back, how he can feel the pain still whenever someone gets too close, like some phantom limb. How the strange scarring was caused by his boyfriend not caring about how he was allergic to latex, and instead let his skin bubble and burn.

He can’t remember what started it, but by the end his throat is sore, he aches, and Dr Picani looks more concerned than ever.

 

_Roman was a theatre kid through and through, and greatly distrusted him from the start, which Deceit had no issue with. It did hurt to see Roman be kissed gently by Virgil between classes, or be hugged warmly by Patton, or the eager conversations the boy had with Logan._

_But Deceit didn’t care. He’d kept his boyfriend happy for two weeks solid now, and he wasn’t having a random theatre nerd threaten that stability. He wasn’t having anything threaten it._

_He’d been good. He messaged back within the time limit, kept his distance from others, did only the minimum to spend maximum time with his lover. He’d even given up his job as requested, however much it had hurt._

_It didn’t last._

“ _Roman was kinda annoying in theatre,” Deceit had told his boyfriend one night, “he and Virgil were making out and it was gross.”_

_The room went silent, his boyfriend’s expression had turned cold, and Deceit knew he’d messed up. When asked how his day was he was supposed to lie, or at least say nothing. Anything but bring up other people._

_The next day Roman had seen the bruises, and pulled the liar aside to ask him quietly about it._

“ _I fell over,” Deceit lied, “why, you worried about me, sweetheart?”_

_Roman looked uncomfortable. Good. Maybe he’d leave him alone._

“ _Deceit, I...look, I know what bruises from others look like...my ex...look, is everything ok with you and your boyfriend?”_

_Deceit had quit the class that same day._

 

Deceit was still lonely. Safe, yes, but alone. He knew logically that if he accepted the others invitations and offers or returned messages then he’d be less lonely. But the fear persisted. He could never get it out of his head that he could be hurt for spending time with others.

He was still lying. He was trying to be honest, he really was, but lying was safe. A barrier between him and those who might wish him harm. He knew it was keeping him from making friends. Logically, it made sense to be honest about _why_ he was lying. Just be honest to _someone_.

Dr Picani continues to encourage this.

He just couldn’t understand why he was still hurting. He couldn’t help but curl up, hugging his knees and turning up music loud just in case he started crying. Every now and then one of the others knocks on his door and asks if he’s ok. He lies each time, of course, claiming he was fine.

The door opens after he stops responding, and he doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Roman. The theatre kid comes over and sits by him, a small gap between them, and says nothing.

He stays there for half an hour before Virgil joins, sitting opposite Roman in silence. Logan and Patton join, and they stay in silence until Deceit starts crying, begging them to let him be alone, desperately trying to explain that this was _safer_.

“I don’t want to be _hurt_ ,” he sobs, “I don’t want _you_ to be hurt! He already hurt _you,_ Virgil, so please, leave me alone!”

Virgil wants to ask, but saves the question for another day.

“We’re here to keep you safe,” he says instead, “...you don’t have to be alone.”

“Even if you try to push us away, we’ll be here for when you need us,” Logan agrees.

“Why?” Deceit hisses, trying not to cry harder, “I’ve done _everything I can_ to make you hate me!”

“Falsehood,” Logan says calmly, “if you had, we’d hate you. It’s clear you’ve been hurting a lot, and we don’t hate you for your actions whilst suffering from trauma.”

“We all do stuff we regret,” Roman says softly, “trust me...I...I’ve done shitty stuff too. But we...believe in your future.”

Deceit sniffs. “You act like I’m going to start accepting your friendship,” he mutters, “I’m not joining you on your stupid movie nights. _My_ movie nights always ended badly.”

“We know,” says Patton gently, and then, more firmly, “if you won’t go to us, we’ll come to you. We’ll sit quietly or talk, and you can join in when you’re ready. But you don’t deserve to be alone.”

“Isolation will only hinder your recovery,” Logan points out.

“Specs is right,” Virgil says, smiling.

“If you want space, we’ll give it you,” Roman says quickly, “but if...if it’s ok with you...we’ll be close, just in case.”

Deceit hesitates. On the one hand, the voice in his head was yelling at him about the safety of isolation, about how they needed to leave, leave him alone. He needed to _make_ them leave him alone. On the other hand, they were handing him a chance, a chance to have people close by for when he could bring himself to join them.

“We’ll give you the option every night,” says Patton warmly, “so if you change your mind, it’s ok.”

And so, he chooses.


	2. Who Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Oh god...um...descriptions of abuse, lots of reference to abuse, trauma, descriptions of panic attacks/flashbacks, victim blaming from an unnamed asshole, Deceit worrying that he’s a bad person, gore in the form of allergic reactions, descriptions of said allergic reaction, food mentions, Deceit believing he’s fat and doesn’t need to eat (he does tho, don’t worry), cyber bullying...um...yeah, think that’s it. Again, a vent fic, so uh...yeah...
> 
> Summary: Deceit is trying, but part of him forever worries that he’s the bad guy. The others try to help, but it’d be easier if he knew how to talk about his feelings to begin with. Nobody said dealing with trauma was easy, but at least he’s not alone.

Sometimes Deceit feared he was wrong.

It wasn’t something he was willing to say out loud, just in case one of the others confirmed his fears. They were being so helpful as of late, that he couldn’t bear to imagine one of them telling him that he was wrong, or worse, accusing him of lying even though he’d been trying so hard to be honest.

Right now, his spiralling thoughts were because of one idiot in his philosophy class who’d suggested that “most abusive relationships were mutually abusive”. Patton, bless his soul, had argued back, squeezing Deceit’s hand gently as he’d insisted that was _bullshit_. (Of course, Patton used nicer phrasing, but-)

“That line of thinking is only ever used to make victims feel bad,” snaps Patton, a fire in his voice that Deceit had never noticed before becoming his friend.

_Friend_ . How odd, the liar muses to himself, being friends with Patton  Hart, as if a few months or so ago they’d hated each other. As if a few months ago he hadn’t still been actively avoiding friendships.

“It’s true though,” the asshole snaps back, “think about it, both sides can end up lying and manipulating each other, right? Why are you so sure that abuse can’t be just as mutual?”

“You’re just being mean now,” Patton argues, and turns to their lecturer, “sir, he’s clearly just being... _mean!”_

Deceit glances at their tutor, hoping that he shuts down the discussion. He’d joined this class to have a reason to monologue about his favourite philosophers, not to listen to this sort of nonsense.

“Well...can you make an argument against his?” the tutor asks carefully, “we encourage debates here, you know that.”

Well that’s bullshit, isn’t it?

He realises a moment too late he’s said it out loud, and it’s made the class a bit more interested – debates took off a lot more once Deceit got involved, after all.

“Oh, what would _you_ know?” sneers the asshole.

Deceit breathes deeply, and sits upright, trying to use his height to his advantage, and if nothing else, to look more confident.

“More than you, apparently,” he sneers back, “that’s like claiming that if you hit someone who’s just beat you up and stolen your wallet then you’re the one at fault. It’s stupid, like your haircut last year.”

He knows he’s being petty, but he knows he’s treading a thin line. He would rather die than have people know about his relationship. And yet the more the asshole talks, the more he feels something bubble up inside of him. The more something inside him whispers _what if he’s right? What if we hurt our ex just as much as they hurt us?_

He manages to listen to three more sentences before he snarls out a string of swear words and storms out the room, breaking into a sprint when he starts hearing whispers, and hiding in the toilets until he’s sure Patton won’t find him anymore.

 

“ _Hey! That’s Mello, from Death Note, right? I love that show!”_

_The boy looked up at him, chubby cheeked with a scattering of freckles. They were twelve years old, and Deceit had never met another Death Note fan in real life yet, so seeing the background of the boy’s phone was thrilling. Even more so when the boy nodded and started talking about his favourite parts of the show eagerly._

_They’d exchanged contact details that day, and Deceit had excitedly told his mother about his new friend. About how much they had in common, about how they were transferring to his school soon so it was going to be amazing! He was going to see his new friend every day!_

_He was twelve, and all he knew right then was that he’d found someone who liked the same things as him. He was happy._

 

Deceit becomes quieter after the incident in Philosophy, barely responding when Patton tries to talk to him. When the others try to get him to talk he shuts down further, unwilling to go back on the progress he was making, but equally unwilling to tell the truth on the matter. He didn’t want to admit that he was scared he was the bad guy.

Logan makes them back off, and Deceit leaves the house not long after. Once again it just hurt too much to stay inside, stay trapped between four walls and enough people that part of him was _sure_ he would wake up with bruises.

No matter how far he walked though, the part of him that was stuck in the past persisted, clinging to him and whispering in his ear. It never let him go, wrapping itself around his lungs like a snake, constricting until he couldn’t breathe, until he collapsed in the middle of a parking lot, sobbing and shaking.

He could always hear the warnings, always see the flickering emotion in the eyes of his ex after messing up, saying the wrong thing. He could feel the latex on his skin, could hear himself screaming that he’s _allergic_. Could hear his ex tell him to _just stop complaining_. But he could _smell_ the burning flesh, and he needed it off, needed a doctor, needed-

He comes to, head swimming, brain foggy, and vaguely sees that someone’s sat in front of him. He whispers an apology, forgetting for a moment that he’s not seen his ex in a year, so certain that it’s him he’s seeing crouched in front of him on the tarmac.

“Chill, gurl, it’s cool. You look more spooked than me, gotta be honest there.”

It’s not his ex. He blinks slightly, and realises that of course it isn’t, his ex would never wear such tacky sunglasses. And what on earth is spilled down that top? He breathes deeply, and runs his hands through his hair.

“Where am I?” he asks bluntly, “and if you say _parking lot_ , I swear to god I will remove your canines...”

The boy laughs at the weak threat. “Sure thing. Nah, you’re near my favourite spot in the city. Or, it is when people don’t start screaming. You good?”

Deceit just shrugs, standing up slowly. The boy follows suit, and Deceit notes that he’s barely 5’5”. Short.

“Yeah. I’m swell. Um...what’s the time?”

“Sure you are, sweetheart. Half past midnight. You got somewhere to be?”

What a question. Technically he should be home, in bed, or at least not out in the middle of the city with a stranger. Technically Patton will be worrying, and secretly he hates to worry Patton. But equally, the part of him that’s aware of what year it is knows that actually, he can stay out as long as he likes. He no longer has a curfew. He’s no longer in danger if he doesn’t do as he’s told, or follow instructions to the letter.

“No. No, I don’t.”

 

“ _Hey, I heard from Virgil you were joining the LGBT club? I...I didn’t know you were gay.”_

_Deceit was fourteen, and though only out to his mother he was confident enough to nod, smiling at the boy, only a little worried about his reaction. They’d been friends for two years, he was sure his sexuality wouldn’t be a problem._

“ _Yeah, I am. Sorry, I meant to tell you-”_

“ _Oh, no, it’s fine! I was going to ask – may I join you? I’m bisexual, you see...”_

_He’d felt his heart leap. His crush liked boys. Maybe he had a chance. In the two years Deceit had known him he’d only gotten prettier. His freckles were like stars, bright and beautiful, and his blue eyes only shone more and more every day._

“ _Of course! I’d love you to – I mean, I’d...I mean, yes, of course. The more the merrier, right?”_

_Three weeks later they shared their first kiss on Deceit’s bed, and Deceit had eagerly messaged Virgil to share the news. His heart had never felt lighter, there was something so sweet in knowing his feelings were returned. And Virgil had been just so happy for him._

_He was fourteen, and the boy he loved was in love with him._

 

“You seriously stayed up for me?”

Deceit wasn’t quite sure how else to react when he returns at four in the morning to find Virgil pacing up and down the room, the anxious student half flinging himself at Deceit, checking for injuries.

“I was worried! _We_ were worried! God, you...you could have at least told us...messaged us...I thought...” Virgil doesn’t end his sentences, flitting from worry to worry as he locks the door behind Deceit, “have you eaten whilst you were out? Because I _know_ you didn’t eat dinner-”

“Relax, I don’t need to eat,” Deceit says offhandedly, “I know I’m fat, a missed meal here or there won’t hurt.”

“Fat? Dee, you’re...never mind, I’m making food. Just...do me a favour and stay awake long enough to eat, ok?”

Deceit doesn’t reply, not sure how to respond. On the one hand...knowing Virgil cared was actually rather nice. And Virgil was a good cook, surprisingly, so he wasn’t fussed about that. But on the other hand, he did _not_ like being told what to do.

Not that he could voice that. He sits obediently, and stays perfectly still until Virgil reappears with food.

“...You know, you were allowed to watch something...”

“You didn’t specify.”

Virgil wants to say something, but all he knows is that there’s more to it, and so much emotion and memories stuck behind those words, and he all the things he’d like to say die in his throat.

“I...right. Uh...look, um, do you want me to stay whilst you eat?”

Deceit frowns sightly.

“I don’t have to. I mean...I could go re-dye my hair instead...”

“Will Roman mind? It’s late.”

“Huh? Why would Roman mind if I dye my hair late?”

Deceit starts eating, rolling his eyes as if Virgil had suggested cows were green. “Well yeah, waking him up to ask if you can dye your hair is mean. Let him sleep.”

Virgil doesn’t dye his hair that night, and instead spends a while trying to work out why Deceit assumes permission is needed to dye his hair. It takes Deceit a while to believe Virgil that not asking permission is the norm. It takes Virgil a while to get over the fact that Deceit was so casual about it all.

 

“ _I like this colour. Do you think I’d suit yellow eyeshadow though? I mean, I already have the nail polish...”_

_His boyfriend hummed, looking intently at him. They’d been together for six months, and after realising that his boyfriend liked make up too Deceit had decided to admit to enjoying it as well._

“ _I don’t know. I think you look better without make up, to be honest.”_

_Deceit blushed, and smiled shyly, thanking him and not bringing it up again for a week._

“ _Blue or purple? Virgil says purple, but-”_

“ _Is this the eyeshadow? I told you, you look better without it.” His boyfriend had sounded a little annoyed, which surprised him a bit, and he backtracked quickly._

“ _I know! It’s just that I really like it, so...”_

“ _Well I’m not going to **stop** you wearing it, but you...well, you just look a little tacky when you wear make up.”_

_ D eceit had felt hurt, getting defensive, only to give in and put away the make up,  pouting a little. _

“ _Don’t be so grumpy,” his boyfriend kissed him, “I was just being honest. You can still wear it if you want to.”_

_ D eceit wants to believe him, but whenever he mentions make up or is seen with any he sees his boyfriend roll his eyes, or  criticise the application, or calls him a name “as a joke”. Eventually he just stops, and his boyfriend seems happier for it. _

 

D eceit never returned to his philosophy class, instead begging administration to let him swap classes.  It took a while, but they gave in, giving him a short list of classes that still had spaces and were worth the same amount of credits.

H is options came down to art,  music or astronomy.

“Choose astronomy,” Logan insisted eagerly, “you can borrow my notes, and it’s a really interesting class! We’re looking at black holes at the moment. You like black holes, right?”

( D eceit had listened to the nerd talk about astronomy for half an hour before deciding that the class wasn’t for him.)

“Choose music,” Roman suggested, “you can sing, right? I’ve heard you singing in the shower-”

(Deceit had stopped him there.)

“Art will be difficult for you to catch up on,” points out Virgil, “you can’t do a six month class in two months.”

( Deceit hated admitting that Virgil was right.)

He wasn’t going back though. Especially not after the teacher sent him an email telling him his behaviour in philosophy class was “immature”.  That he should “listen to other people’s ideas”.  That  he was “acting like a martyr”.  And admittedly, the email he sent back wasn’t the  _ nicest  _ of emails,  but it was well deserved.

“They said most abusive relationships were mutual,” he complains to Picani, “I didn’t want to listen to someone claim victims are abusers.”

P icani was sympathetic, and had backed him up against the teacher, before reassuring Deceit that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Never let anyone tell you that you were in the wrong,” he tells him, and Deceit doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he already hears that from himself.

S ome nights he awoke with his heart racing, blood cold, and it wasn’t from fear of his ex, but from fear that  _ he  _ was the bad guy.  What if he was wrong? What if he’d hurt his ex, or if  things hadn’t been abuse, just...a misunderstanding?

O n those nights he fled the house,  seeking out the parking lot again, where he could be almost certain that the short sunglasses boy would be.  Tonight, like every other night, the boy was already there, spraying something onto the side of a car.

“Whose car is that?” Deceit asks.

“My dad’s,” the boy replies, grinning, “he’s a bastard so I’m making sure everyone knows.”

The boy was, as Deceit found out, “Remy”. And also not a boy – they were a genderfluid art major that was addicted to caffeine and had their best ideas when they counted the least. Remy was fully aware that Deceit had issues of some sort, and Deceit was pretty sure Remy had their fair share as well, but the pair got along regardless.

“Can I join you?”

A nd that was half the reason Deceit transferred into art, happy to see Remy sat staring at a tower of pencils. He had nothing stopping him from making friends now, and he was going to make friends with Remy  for certain.

 

_ W hen Deceit was sixteen he wore glasses, and he hated them, but not as much as his boyfriend did. _

_ They were kissing on Deceit’s bed again, when suddenly his boyfriend yelped, hair caught in the side of the glasses. Deceit carefully but quickly  detaches the glasses, apologising to his lover. It was a bit embarrassing to mess up a kissing session at the best of times. _

“ _Ugh, you realise that’s abuse?” His boyfriend said the words in a teasing tone, but it still felt sour in his ears._

“ _That’s not funny...”_

_He winced when his boyfriend slapped him hard, snapping at him to stop being so sensitive. “It’s just a joke, chill.”_

_ Repeatedly “abuse” became a joke of some sort, and Deceit felt more and more uncomfortable about it as time went by.  When he tried to protest he was mocked. He couldn’t take a joke, he was overreacting, he needed to relax. Stop taking things so seriously. _

_ W hen his glasses catch in his hair he  receives bruises and vicious insults, and eventually he stops wearing them.  Even now, at twenty  one , nobody knows that he wears contact lenses. _

 

D eceit wanted to  trust himself, but he didn’t.  He did try to explain to Logan eventually that although he  _ knew  _ his ex was abusive, sometimes he just...felt like maybe he was exaggerating.  He said so timidly, quiet and so nervously that Logan was reminded of the time he’d found Virgil having a panic attack in the toilets in their senior year of High School.

“The reason you’re doubting yourself is _because_ you were abused,” the logical boy tells him, “has something brought this on?”

D eceit doesn’t have it in him to explain that the fear is always there, that some days it’s just louder, so he just shrugs and lets the matter drop.

He found himself doing that a lot  these days.  It was like making one step forwards then two steps back. He was a little more honest, and opening up a bit more, but the fear could overwhelm him in barely a moment and  suddenly he was seventeen again  and hands were around his neck and he was crying and-

“Breathe!”

H e jerks back to reality, for once thankful for how Virgil’s voice had an uncanny way of getting loud and...demon-like...when  particularly anxious. It was the sort of voice that broke through flashbacks and any such moments he may have.  So he smiles weakly at Virgil, grabs his bag and heads to art,  where he could throw paint at a canvas until the roaring in his ears was a little quieter.

O n bad days, like today, Remy would slip headphones over Deceit’s ears and turn on music so loud that Deceit couldn’t hear  the whispers dragging him down,  so loud that  he could start to forget the sound of his ex boyfriend’s voice.  It was calming.  Plus Remy had good music taste, unlike some people he knew.

(Deceit was an emo once, and he understood the appeal of My Chemical Romance, but Virgil almost exclusively listened to outdated emo and goth music even now.)

The downside was that he never  heard notifications on his phone when listening to Remy’s music, and after what was  apparently five notifications in a row t he enby shoves his phone in his hand and tells him loudly to answer his messages because the ring tone was annoying.

D eceit smirks slightly, removing the headphones. “Sorry, Rem,  I forget how popular I am,” he says lightly, unlocking his phone.  Five messages from an unknown number.  Weird.

“So do I,” Remy says back, voice just as light, “I forget you know five whole people~”

D eceit goes to reply, only to freeze as he reads the messages.

It had been a year,  seven months and twenty two days since he’d broken up with his boyfriend,  and  not once had he thought that  his ex might get a new phone,  a new number that wasn’t blocked.

A nd despite everything, the first line of text hurt more than the years they’d spent together.

 

_You’re a fucking liar._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I know the ending may seem sudden, but it happened in real life, and trust me, it is sudden.


	3. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Deceit deals with his feelings about the good times in his relationship, and tries to acknowledge that they don’t change that his ex was abusive. The others are good friends, and he starts to open up to them and Picani properly.
> 
> Warnings: Descriptions of abuse, implications of Roman not being ok, parental conflict mentions, flashback descriptions, food mention/talk, talk of cyberbullying/harrassment, scars, Deceit self-victim blaming, nightmares, night terrors.  
> Non graphic (I think) descriptions of being pressured into sex (no sex actually written) If you want to skip these, it’s “his boyfriend kissed him and grinned” through to “pretending it didn’t feel wrong”, and a brief mention when talking to Picani, just the speech part with “we went to the cinema together”.

Patton was Deceit’s emergency contact.

Really, what else was there to do but call his emergency contact? Deceit was crying and shaking and rocking back and forth, not responding to Remy or the tutor. Remy still wasn’t sure what had actually happened. One moment Deceit was talking fine, the next he was sobbing uncontrollably.

They say as much to Patton, who single handedly stops the whispers and pointed looks from the other students with a single look.

“Dee? Deceit?” Patton crouches in front of him, voice steady despite his concern, “can you hear me?”

Patton tries to get through to Deceit, whilst Remy snaps at the tutor to _please get people out_. It wasn’t going to help if everyone was staring at him, after all. They weren’t good at the comfort, they’d leave Patton to do that, but they could yell at people enough to get them to make themselves useful by leaving.

Patton wasn’t having much luck. Even once Deceit was “back”, he wasn’t speaking, wouldn’t make eye contact. He desperately starts texting Logan, hoping the more logical boy would have some ideas, only for Deceit to start crying again, hands going up to cover his face as he weeps.

Logan arrives not long after, at which point Deceit has curled up against Patton, pale and shaking yet unwilling to let go of the person currently keeping him grounded. Logan himself takes a minute. He knew a lot, and he knew in theory what to do, but it was very different when you were faced with situations in practice.

“Let’s...clear some space,” he says finally, “then we’ll...try get him home.”

Patton nods, holding Deceit with one arm and pushing things away with the other. Deceit doesn’t respond, doesn’t speak at all, even when they manage to get him mobile and aware again. He just looks aside and shrugs when asked about the incident, then nods and lets them take him home.

Logan pretends not to notice Deceit throw his phone in the bin on their way out.

 

_Deceit liked formal dances. Not so much because of the dancing, but because even at sixteen he looked sharp in a suit and he knew it. Even his boyfriend didn’t have anything negative to say about it, instead smiling, taking his gloved hands and kissing him gently._

“ _Why the gloves?” he asked with a light laugh, dimples showing._

“ _They just add something, don’t you think?”_

_His boyfriend had chuckled, shook his head, but kissed him again, whispered how lucky he was to have such a handsome partner, and Deceit could swear that days like that made it all worth it. They’d gone to prom, they’d danced, they’d made out in a photo booth and Deceit had felt so content._

_It didn’t last, it never did, but he fell asleep that night curled against his lover, still in the now crumpled suit, a hand in his hair and a soft blanket over his lower body._

 

Deceit locked himself in his room when they got home, and no amount of logical reasoning from Logan could get him out. Patton tried as well, of course, offering dad jokes and puns and ice cream, but there was no response other than the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door.

Roman and Virgil knew something was up once they got home. Logan was sat down with a book but he clearly wasn’t reading it, whilst Patton had baked enough cookies to feed them for a week. Virgil let Roman ask the questions. He knew it was about Deceit, and his mind went to the worst case scenarios. Asking could mean confirming them, and somehow that was worse than not knowing.

“Apparently something upset Dee pretty badly today,” Roman tells him after talking to them, “don’t know what though – he’s still in his room and won’t respond to them.”

(He doesn’t respond to Virgil or Roman either, only reassuring Virgil that he was still alive by eventually opening the door and peering out. They make eye contact for a few moments then he shuts the door again, resuming his hiding.)

Logan mentions that he threw his phone away over dinner, tentatively suggesting that something involving it may have happened.

“Deceit’s had his number blocked for months,” Virgil says, quicker than intended, “he told me he blocked him on social media after they broke up, too.”

Roman pushes his food around his plate and Virgil squeezes his shoulder gently in reassurance, continuing in a calmer voice.

“I just mean...it doesn’t make sense...”

There’s silence until Patton stands up abruptly, saying something under his breath and going to Deceit’s door. The three stay silent, trying to listen to what Patton says.

(“Whatever they said to you, you deserve to eat and you deserve to be with people who care about you.”)

Patton reappears with Deceit, who has managed to plaster a confident, almost smug, smile on his face. An impressive feat considering he’s hugging his plush snake so tightly his knuckles are white, considering how his hair sticks out in a tangled mess from beneath his hat, considering the obvious tear tracks barely dry on his cheeks.

Patton guides him into a seat with a firm hand before getting him a plate of food.

“I don’t want to be here,” Deceit says, voice weak and cracking despite the smile.

Deceit doesn’t say anything else for the rest of dinner, but he leans into touch when offered. When Logan places a hand on his shoulder when picking up the plates. When Roman makes the snake nuzzle Deceit’s scars gently. When Virgil shuffles closer, sides of their bodies touching. When Patton wraps his arms around him and whispers that they’re there for him.

None of them sleep that night, instead staying up to watch movies, anime and musicals, Deceit sat in the middle of them all, Virgil and Patton supplying more blankets than most people reasonably own in a lifetime.

Logan points out that Stitch’s biology makes no sense.

_(“He’s an alien experiment, nerd, he doesn’t have to make sense.”)_

_(“I’m just asking for an explanation for where his limbs go, that’s all!”)_

Patton squeals at every kiss between the romantic leads, hugging his pillow tighter every time.

_(“You’re adorable, padre, but they’ve kissed three times already.”)_

_(“I can’t help it! Romance is just so cute **and they’re gay**!”)_

Roman sings along loudly to every and any piece of music, Virgil only occasionally telling him to be quieter about it.

_(“And I’m almost there~”)_

_(“I love your singing, but last time you were this loud we got noise complaints.”)_

Deceit joins him quietly when Hamilton starts playing.

_(“We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes-”)_

At some point Deceit is crying again, telling them all through sobs and strangled whines the things his ex messaged him, blurting out all his doubts, about how maybe his ex is _right_. They had _good_ times, maybe he’s overthinking the bad times, doesn’t _everyone_ argue or have bad days?

“Virgil and I have bad days,” Roman tells him calmly, “we argue about whether our toothbrushes should touch, and who used up the last of the hair gel-”

“That was you, by the way.”

“-Shush, My Gorgeous Romance. Look, Dee, those are bad days and arguments. When people hurt you or put you down or make you feel like this…trust me, that’s abuse.”

 

_Deceit didn’t often go to the cinema, so when his boyfriend turned up with two tickets to Frozen and offered the suggestion of getting popcorn, he was hardly going to say no. He was so happy to cling to his lover’s arm and chat as they headed off._

_Sure, he didn’t get to sing along to the songs, but he could handle that. His boyfriend wasn’t fond of singing, after all, so really he was thankful he was being taken to a movie that had singing in it. The popcorn and hand holding made it even better._

“ _Thanks for this,” he said at the end, kissing his cheek with a smile, “I appreciated it.”_

_His boyfriend grinned and kissed his lips. “Maybe you could show your appreciation later?”_

_He said it teasingly, softly, smooth like rich chocolate or velvet. Deceit had blushed, swatted him gently on the arm, but nodded, ignoring the feeling that something wasn’t right._

_Later he’s tired and asks to go to sleep early, but his boyfriend frowns and pouts. “You said you were gonna show your appreciation”, he complained, and Deceit pushes aside the feeling that something wasn’t right._

“ _Tomorrow,” he said, pretending he wasn’t pleading when his boyfriend continues to insist, “come on, I’m tired...”_

“ _Tomorrow, **sure** ,” his boyfriend said suddenly, and the words send alarm bells ringing, “you weren’t gonna show me, were you?”_

“ _Please don’t be like this-”_

“ _Be like **what**?”_

_He didn’t have the words, glancing at the door in hopes someone would interrupt, but his boyfriend persists, insisting that he should be nice, be grateful, saying he promised. And Deceit gave in, pretending it didn’t feel wrong._

 

Remy finds him the next day sat by the art studio, sketchbook in hand but staring blankly at the still white page. Something aches in their chest at the emptiness in their friend’s eyes, the lack of focus as they glance over the paper.

“Hey, how you doing after yesterday?”

Deceit’s head jerks up, terror in his eyes for a moment before he sees who it is, and visibly relaxes into his usual demeanour.

“I’m fine.” _Lie_. “Uh, well, not _fine_ but...I’m managing, you know?”

Remy nods in understanding and sits next to him, smiling and taking out their own sketchbook.

“I get you. By the way, did you get my texts?”

Deceit pauses, realising that having thrown his phone away he now had no way of contacting people. Shit. Should have thought about that. Ah well...instinct over logic, it seemed.

“Uh...I lost my phone, sorry.”

Remy raises an eyebrow, but changes the subject, which Deceit is thankful for. They talk about his graffiti, problems with their father, and how they’re saving up for a tattoo. It’s mostly light talk that Deceit can reply as and when he feels comfortable. And he likes that.

It’s very different from when he has to talk to Picani about the incident.

He shakes as he whispers about what happened, about the things that were messaged. How his ex called him selfish and greedy and a liar. How his ex claimed _he_ was the one in the wrong, told him that his ex had a new boyfriend who was _that much better than him_. Name calling and insults that hit him hard.

“I keep thinking it over,” he whispers, “what if I am the bad guy here? What...what if _I_ was abusive?”

“That’s not true,” Picani says firmly, “we can look at the fact that one of you has decided to continue to verbally abuse you over a year after you broke up, for example. And that person isn’t you.”

Deceit sniffs slightly, shrugging and looking down.

“Maybe I deserved it.”

“Why would you deserve it?”

“I...I tended to make promises I couldn’t keep. Or forget things. Or just mess up...I’m a mess, Picani...”

Picani hums, then smiles. “In _Lilo and Stitch_ , Stitch frequently messes up. Pretty badly at times, like destroying his city model. But he never hurts anyone, and Lilo and her sister see that he deserves and needs love as much as those who haven’t messed up.”

Deceit chuckles slightly at his therapist’s choice of reference. “So I’m Stitch?”

“Yes! I did have a Stitch plush actually, but it went missing after a busy day of sessions...”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Ah it’s ok...I’m sure he’s ok. More importantly, let’s look at you and your feelings about the relationship.”

“It wasn’t all bad, Picani...it just tended to become bad...”

“Very common in abusive relationships.”

“Yeah...like...we went to the cinema one time...and it was really fun...but then later he started getting pushy...about, uh...well...” Deceit blushes. “...Sex. And I...I don’t know...I was tired...he just kept insisting, and he got annoyed and...”

He trails off. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to continue talking about it.”

 

_Deceit had broken up with his boyfriend two weeks ago when the package arrived. He hadn’t expected it, so he’d opened it cautiously, still on edge about his ex._

_Inside was a collection of photographs. Him and his boyfriend, all the times they’d spent together. Silly Snapchat filters on their selfies, the time they went to the zoo. Their first Christmas together. First Valentines. The time they went paintballing with the LGBT club._

_So many memories that Deceit almost smiled, and would have, if he didn’t then notice how his face in all of them had been scribbled out in thick black marker pen. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that._

_He gingerly mentioned to his mother on the phone that his ex boyfriend had sent him a bag of photos with his face erased. She told him his boyfriend was just being petty, but he was still nervous. Something about it felt so threatening._

_How was he so easily threatened? Why did his (ex) boyfriend scare him? Why was he so weak, so vulnerable?_

_He threw away the photos and swore to himself he’d never let anyone else hurt him, not ever._

 

Deceit spent a couple weeks too anxious to leave the dorm alone, but eventually he managed it, slowly stepping out and sprinting to the store to get milk before returning. Logan was awake when he returned, it being barely seven in the morning, and smiled proudly at his achievement.

It was nice knowing that the others were on his side, he had to admit.

Things were going ok, he had to admit. Roman was pretty ill, and was complaining bitterly about it, but apart from that nothing was actually going _wrong_ , and in a way that made him nervous.

He knew from experience that fair weather could result in storms and emotional flash floods.

Of course, this for him meant being hit with the wave of fear and shame and anger that accompanied nightmares and flashbacks. He found himself once again curled up in his room, sobbing and dry heaving after Logan accidentally triggered him. It was so _stupid_ , being triggered by something as simple as _coconut shampoo_.

It didn’t change the fact that the smell forced on him the memories of bruises and hair pulling and slapping. He was there all over again, covering bruises and covering the bald patch in his hair (not that he didn’t still do it. He’d become fond of bowler hats, thankfully). He could look at the scar on his arm and see it a fresh scratch.

He could remember telling his boyfriend that it hurt. Could remember his boyfriend replying with “good, it was meant to.”

He hugs a weighted blanket (Patton had made it) around himself tightly, breathing deeply. He doesn’t hold back from lying and claiming to just be cold when asked, and he says it so easily, so smoothly, that the others almost believe him.

He gets a new phone too, and Remy begs him for his number, only to send stupid memes at three in the morning until Deceit begs them to stop. Things were easier with Remy sometimes.

“You’re gay, right?”

Sometimes.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“Pansexual all the way, gurl.”

Sometimes the enby was just strange.

But right now he was just staring at a computer screen hoping that his coursework would magically finish itself. He’d been swapping student memes with Remy all evening, and now it was two in the morning and he had four hours to complete an essay and a presentation.

“This is stupid,” he mutters, “I used to be great at this. Why can’t I focus?”

His head just swarmed. He couldn’t pick a thought to focus on, couldn’t zone in on ideas. His mind just blanks every time he goes to write, until he groans and slams his head on the keyboard.

“Fuck you and fuck the university,” he snaps, as if it could understand his frustration.

“You ok?”

He looks over at his door, seeing Virgil leaning against the doorway.

“I can’t do my coursework. I’m gonna fail."

Virgil walks over, sitting by the desk, knees up by his chest. “You are if you don’t submit it. Just write any old trash, you’ll at least get _some_ marks for it.”

“I guess,” mumbles Deceit, “...I used to be good at this, Virge. What happened?”

“Trauma happened,” Virgil says bluntly, “it changes how your brain works. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Easier said than done...I don’t think I know how _not_ to be hard on myself. I don’t even get why I’m saying all this...I try so hard to act confident and normal around others...”

“You come across as some Sherlock Villian Wannabe,” Virgil says with a grin, “especially with your Victorian Gothic look.”

“Fuck you, it’s classy.”

Virgil laughs, and Deceit can’t help but smile. It’d been so long since he’d had the chance to have late night talks with Virgil. They’d been best friends once, and he so desperately wanted that again.

With Virgil’s help he finishes enough of his coursework that he can hand it in and not automatically fail. He hates his lack of concentration, the way he can’t seem to write or think, but at least it’s done.

“Be kinder to yourself,” Virgil says gently before he leaves, “look how far you’ve come, not how far you’ve got left to go.”

 

_Deceit wanted to sleep, but it was difficult when he kept getting punched in the arm. He didn’t understand why his boyfriend wanted him awake, and when he asked his boyfriend said he wanted every moment possible with him._

_He was woken up repeatedly being hit and yelled at, at how he wasn’t allowed to sleep in, stay asleep, had to be awake **now.**_

_He learned quickly to fall asleep after his boyfriend falls asleep, and awake before him too. He was so tired, so exhausted, but it kept him from waking up to bruises, and he was thankful for it._

_It was strange, the things he became thankful for. Forgiveness, not being bruised, being left alone, being allowed to nap. He kept insisting to himself in the mirror that he was ok with this, because he loved his boyfriend, so much._

_On the good days his boyfriend’s eyes sparkled, those freckles bright like fairy lights across his face, dimples showing as he laughs and smiles. On good days he hugs him tenderly, soft and warm. On good days he kisses like there’s nothing else he’d rather do. On good days he runs his fingers through Deceit’s hair, tells him he loves him, tells him he’s beautiful._

_He takes him out, he messages him all day, sends him silly selfies and pictures of snakes. He talks about a future where they live together, talks about marriage, about what colour scheme he wants, and Deceit can’t help but smile. He doesn’t want that, he thinks, but he’s happy to listen to his boyfriend’s ideas._

_They dance to music together, play WiiSports together – Deceit always loses at tennis, but his boyfriend always drops the ball in bowling, so it equals out. They study together and talk all night, about everything and anything. His boyfriend is so passionate, so eager to talk about his hobbies, and Deceit loves it._

_Doesn’t that make the bad days worth it?_

 

Deceit wakes up screaming and crying once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: A more gentle chapter! There’ll be more, and like...eventually this will have a happy ending. I’ve just got a lot I want to explore first, and a sub plot with Roman to vent about other stuff…  
> I have a lot of feelings and stuff in my head, so I don’t fully know where this is going, but I have a vague idea. I just want to show Deceit working through his feelings and trauma in a sorta realistic way.


	4. Beautiful Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Deceit has good days and bad days. The good days are the calm before the storm, but thankfully he’s learning that he really is loved, and if he runs he’ll be followed.
> 
> Warnings: Woo boy…usual ones. Descriptions of abuse, referenced stalking and cyberbullying. Mentions of scarring and lack of hair from traumatic reasons. Flirting that Deceit is uncomfortable with. Parties. Panic attacks. Major flashbacks. Drugs (not explicit). Manipulation, gaslighting. Seeing his abuser briefly. Arguments. Mentioned kinks, mostly jokingly - the exact phrase is “choke me daddy”. Yeah, referenced and described choking. I gave myself anxiety attacks writing this, but…it’s good to get it out.
> 
> Important: Explicit description of being pressured/forced into sex. You don’t see the act itself, but you see up to Deceit giving in and briefly the aftermath.
> 
> To skip, it’s the part from “c'mon baby” to “it was just safer that way”.

Deceit’s appearance always bothered him. Usually these days Roman helped out - applying make up and offering compliments, even offering to do his hair.

Today though, like the past week, Roman was ill in bed, too tired to do make up. He still made a point to come down for breakfast, still offered compliments, but not make up.

Which was fine - Deceit was getting the hang of it now. A bit of foundation to cover his scars, eyeshadow because it was fun. He gingerly runs his hand over the bald patch in his hair, unsure as ever of what to do with it.

He was determined to work it out - he loved his hat, but didn’t want to wear it forever. Logan could help, potentially. He saw things logically. Could provide objective support…

He just hums to himself for now though. He’d gone a week without a panic attack, and was proud of it. It gave him hope, made him believe things could improve somehow.

The bald patch was still bothering him, though. It was a daily reminder that he had…problems. A daily reminder of his ex, of how he had to go through his social media to check his followers and privacy settings.

He hadn’t seen his ex yet though, which was odd in a way. But he wasn’t going to dwell on that.

Today was a good day.

He ate, he got to class, he even tried to talk to others in the class. He struggled to focus on his work, but he was there, trying, doing.

He texts Logan to tell him, and gets a prompt message back telling him he was proud, congratulating him.

He loved all his friends, but Logan was prompt with reassurance. He could message back almost instantly, no matter when or where. Deceit was almost concerned, but Patton had reassured him that it wasn’t something to worry about.

He trusted Patton.

Whoa. He _trusted_ Patton.

He trusted them all, in a way. But Patton was _Patton_. There was something more to him that let Deceit trust him deeper. Sure, things were tense between them at first, but now? He adored the parental boy.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the arrival of Remy, who walks in, throws their bag down and loudly declares that they’re having a party, so Deceit has to be there.

“I _have_ to? Why, Rem, do you like me just that much?” He teases, at ease around them enough to slip into almost-flirting.

“I do~ But gurl, you gotta be there so you can meet my friends. You know, be social!”

Deceit pulls a face. “I try!” Well, he tried sometimes. “I spoke to someone today!”

Remy smirks, and Deceit realises he hasn’t explained to Remy yet why he avoids being social. He realises next that he doesn’t feel ready to do so yet. Surely Remy could wait?

“Hey, relax, it’s chill.”

He glances up at Remy, who lies down on the table and smiles at him. “You overthink stuff, you know?”

 

_“What are you wearing?”_

_Deceit looked down at his clothing choice, not seeing anything wrong with it. Vaguely Victorian Goth. Jack the Ripper inspired, some would say. Covered up the bruises and scratches._

_“Is there something wrong with it?” He asked cautiously._

_“It’s tacky,” his boyfriend said bluntly, “go choose a different top.”_

_“But I like this top-”_

_“Do you **want** to look like a hobo? Go change!”_

_His boyfriend was louder, angry at Deceit’s defiance, and Deceit changed quickly, choosing a top prefered by his lover. A top he didn’t like._

_He was quiet all day, until his boyfriend demanded him to explain why he was “being boring”._

_Catch 22. If he spoke, he was speaking too much and needed to shut up. If he was quiet he needed to talk more, not be boring._

_He tried to explain that his feelings were hurt, but his boyfriend waved his hand, dismissing him. Told him he was overreacting. Too sensitive. Overthinking._

_He was too much._

 

If some days were good, some days were bad. Some days were as horrific as some days were calm.

Yesterday he’d handled things well. Socialised, did work, was invited to a party, watched a film with Virgil and Roman, who appreciated the low energy activity.

Today he’d woken up screaming, shaking and sweating and crying. His door opens and Patton and Logan run in, taking him through the motions as he sobs and hiccups and tries to make sense of his surroundings.

He doesn’t go back to sleep.

That day he tried to act “normal”. Picani praised him for his efforts, and he tries to help Logan cook dinner. Tries.

The memories of a knife to his throat are intense, and as Logan turns he can feel the cut, the beads of blood, smell the burning fish-

He stops helping when Logan notices he’s frozen up, and is gently moved out of the kitchen.

It was like standing on an island, with a storm looming over as he tried to build a boat to escape.

Good days were calm, the storm still there, but further out to sea. He could work on his boat, even if he feared sailing out and facing the storm head on.

Bad days were when the storm was right on top, thunder and lightning and heavy rain that drenched him entirely. It blinded him, deafened him, and he wanted - needed - to scream.

It was tiring. A constant push and pull, trying to recover, enjoy the good days, only to have the bad days hit him like a truck.

He has two more good days, and on the third it gets bad.

It was fine, until on his way to class he goes past a coffee shop. He glances in, and locks eye contact with the one person he _really didn’t want to see._

His ex smiles, eyes cold, a flicker of something dark in his eyes that Deceit recognised well. He stops in his tracks, unable to look away as all the memories and habits come flooding back.

One look sent him back to the way he was. Fearful and submissive and treading thin lines-

His ex moves and he runs, sprinting to class, not looking back, not daring to find out if his ex would approach him. He’d worked too hard to backtrack now.

But it put him on edge all day.

He bit his nails down raw, snapped at people, lied to his teachers, spent an hour in the bathroom trying to calm himself.

And then when he got home Virgil and Roman were arguing.

He didn’t like hearing Virgil and Roman argue. They rarely argued, not fully at least. And right now they were only really raising their voices because of a misunderstanding. But however much Patton reassured him they’d chill soon, he couldn’t take it.

So he leaves, fleeing once again to escape the memories of shouting, to escape the fear of one of them lashing out. He was scared for them both, and the fear made him tense up and tremble. His voice went as his throat seemed to close up, and he could feel himself hunch up and over.

Logan would be studying at this time, and Remy would be at the party that Deceit had technically been invited to. He didn’t want to be alone, so really those were his options. Study or party.

Neither were things he was fond of. He had no focus for studying, and was at this point relying on a miracle to pass some of his classes. But equally he was…socially stunted, so to speak. And parties were just…being social.

On the other hand, that way he wouldn’t be alone.

He made up his mind.

 

_Deceit didn’t go out anymore. He politely turned down offers at first, quietly insisting that he was busy. People kept trying, pushing him more and more, whilst his boyfriend pushed him back. It never ended._

_So he got mean. Snapped at people who asked, ripped up invites, laughed and acted like he didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit about anyone but his boyfriend._

_It was a lie. Of course it was. It hurt, a twisted pain in his chest that tore him apart at night. When his friends - his old friends - were celebrating birthdays and posting fun snapchat stories. When he was trying not to cry._

_He wanted to hate his boyfriend, but in all honesty he just hated himself._

 

Deceit wasn’t really sure how to react to being at a party. It wasn’t as big as he expected - just a bunch of people in a room with food, balloons and…weed?

“You…smoke weed?” He asks Remy hesitantly, not sure if he should be positive or not.

Remy just nods, inhaling deeply and grinning. “Want to try?”

Deceit considers it, because he wanted to relax, feel chill, feel ok. But…what if he reacted badly? What if he felt worse for it? And god…what if Patton found out? So he shakes his head.

Remy notices how he curls inwards slightly, a faint awkward smile on his face and fear in his eyes. He did it every time he said no, arms up as if preparing for a fight. Did he even know he was doing it? Did Remy want to mention it?

No. They weren’t going to bring up anyone’s demons.

“Hey, not seen you before.”

Deceit and Remy look up and see a tall, muscular guy with bleached white hair grinning.

“He’s talking to you,” Remy clarifies, “this is Steve. He’s like, a sports science major. Nerdy jock. Steve, this is Deceit. He’s like…what major are you?”

Deceit smiles slightly, but is interrupted by Steve.

“Wait, Deceit? That’s fake, dude.”

“It’s uh - it’s not my _actual_ name. Just, uh…my real name is kinda…dorky…”

Steve smirks, not noticing Deceit shuffling, shoulders hunched as he prepares to be snapped at for talking back. Instead though Steve just grins.

“Deceit it is then.”

Remy rolls their eyes. “I’ll give you two space. I won’t be far, ‘kay Dee?”

Deceit nods, but pauses when Steve sits in Remy’s spot. He finds himself going rigid as the man talks, as the guy stretches out, leg touching Deceit’s. He tries to ignore how Steve keeps making eye contact, the sly smile, the way he leans in, touches Deceit’s shoulder-

Deceit’s throat goes dry. He tries to speak but the words fail, and Steve seems to notice his discomfort, because he backs away, looking confused.

 

_“C'mon baby, just let me touch you…”_

_Deceit tried to pull away from the touch, uncomfortable with the hand on his arm and the hand on his leg._

_“I don’t want to right now…”_

_He always tried to give 'soft no’s. He knew his boyfriend didn’t like being told no. His boyfriend claimed it was because his parents were strict. They always said no, never let him do anything. If Deceit wanted to be a good boyfriend he’d be different_.

_The grip on his leg got tighter. “You’re being unreasonable.”_

_“I’m tired,” he lied._

_“You don’t even have to do anything. Just lie there and let me screw you.”_

_Deceit curled in on himself as his legs were parted and his boyfriend loomed over him. He tried to protest, but his voice kept dying, words failing._

_The grip got tighter, his boyfriend’s eyes narrow and cold. Force was applied, body against body, until Deceit whimpered and gave in._

_Afterwards his boyfriend hugged him tightly._

_“You know I’d never do anything without your permission, right?”_

_Deceit couldn’t tell if his lover knew he just had, and yet as the grip tightened all he did was nod. It was just…safer that way._

 

“Sorry. I uh, I…”

“It’s cool dude. My bad.”

The conversation is stilted, even though Steve keeps trying. Eventually Remy saves him, pulling him aside to meet others. He quickly learns the group is weird, high, and a dark sense of humour.

One kid doesn’t look old enough to even _be_ at uni, though they insist otherwise. Remy just laughs when Deceit voices concern.

“Gurl, they’re two years older than you.”

At some point the group start talking about kinks. Deceit isn’t sure why. He’s given up trying to follow the conversation. He just goes along with it, keeping quiet.

Thankfully everyone assumed he was just being “responsible”.

The young looking kid starts talking about being choked, and nudges Steve, laughing as he says “choke me daddy.”

It’s ridiculous, it’s not what Deceit signed up for, and he feels hairs stand on end as Steve laughs and replies with “sure!”

And then there’s hands on the kid’s throat, loose and joking, the kid laughing, but Deceit sees none of it. He’s too busy seeing his ex shoving him against the kitchen wall, too busy panicking because he can’t breathe, because there’s hands on his throat, pressing on his windpipe.

His parents are in the other room, so close but so far, and he desperately tries to plead silently, only being let go once he starts to choke visibly-

He can’t let them be hurt too.

He runs over and shoves the “attacker” hard, making them stumble and almost fall.

“What the hell-”

“Don’t hurt them!! Don’t you dare!”

And then he’s crying, clutching his head and stumbling back. His vision gets blurry, he can hear himself speaking, hear himself begging them not to hurt him, and his vision goes black.

He comes to curled up on the floor against the wall in an empty room. He can feel fresh tear tracks down his face, and a metre or so in front of him is Remy, who smiles when he looks up.

“You back, Dee…?”

Deceit swallows nervously as the memories return.

“I…I didn’t hurt them…did I…?”

Remy laughs and shakes their head. “Nah gurl, takes more than a shove to damage Steve. He’s a footballer, you know. We were more worried about you.”

Deceit looks away, trying to make sense of it all. He had wanted so badly to have a normal night with Remy, a normal party. Feel like a regular student who didn’t fear the smell of coconut, who didn’t cry when people raised their hands too quickly, who didn’t throw up when people argued in front of him.

Instead he’d…messed up. He’d ruined the party for everyone. Had he hurt the person? Steve, was it? Was he really ok? Fuck, he was just as bad as his boyfriend, wasn’t he? Maybe he was right.

“I’m sorry.”

He gets up. He runs, sprinting out the back door and easily jumping the back wall. He can hear Remy shouting, but he needs to get away. He tried, he tried so hard, and he failed. He had been doing so well.

He was social.

He was ~~mostly~~ honest.

But he’d pushed someone. No amount of apologies could make up for that, surely?

(And god, there was a part of him that was fearful of apologising, just in case he got hurt back, like every time, every accident-)

He stops…somewhere. His chest is ready to burst, his lungs burn, his legs collapse under him. There’s a street light, a small shop with the lights turned off. He knows he’s on a pavement. But where? Who knew.

He hears his name being called, and goes to move again, only for his knees to buckle further. He collapses fully onto the ground, shaking and heart racing and trying not to cry.

“Dee-oh my god, are you ok?”

He’s prepared for anger, for bruises and scars and shouting. For snarling and name calling. For being told how useless and worthless he is. For being picked up and dragged home.

He’s not prepared for the gentle arms that lift him up, for his legs to be adjusted carefully to a more comfortable position. For soft touches checking for injuries.

“You don’t seem hurt at least…gurl, don’t go running off like that, I was worried!”

He blinks as he’s held close. Remy’s grip is firm but light - he could escape easily, but there’s enough pressure to be…oddly comforting. He can hear their heart beating, a quick thud-thud-thud that makes him realise that Remy ran.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, unable to say anything else, “I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“…I’m sorry…”

“Why do you keep apologising?”

 

_“I’m sorry! Really, I’m sorry, really really sorry!” He cried and backed away, trembling with his heart caught in his throat._

_“Sorry? You’re **sorry?** You **messaged** them! You messaged them and you told me you’d delete their number!”_

_“They’re my project partner, I-I had to!” It was a lie. He’d just wanted a friend._

_“No! Just…fail the project for all I care. You broke your promise.”_

_He apologised throughout the night, and tended to his injuries once his boyfriend fell asleep. He stopped crying. He just needed to survive. Survive._

 

“…I have PTSD.”

He could have said a million things. How he was hit less if he apologised. How saying sorry could soften his lover, make hin gentler. How he was guilted into saying sorry and now couldn’t not say sorry.

Instead, he goes for bluntness.

“I have PTSD because my ex boyfriend abused me for five years.”

What else can he say?

Remy is quiet, staying still, and Deceit feels himself tense up. Was Remy angry?

“…Your ex is a piece of shit.”

Deceit blinks.

“But more importantly…you’re pretty awesome. You survived five years? You’re surviving PTSD? Whoa gurl!”

Deceit almost laughs, a weird mix of anxiety and relief and softness for the enby. He chuckles weakly and shrugs slightly.

“You wanna go get ice cream?”

“…what?”

Remy shrugs. “Look gurl, I dunno how to react, but ice cream helps everything, and it’s easier to talk feelings over a bowl of mint choc chip.”

“I prefer vanilla.”

“Gurl, PTSD is officially your second issue. Who likes vanilla?”

Deceit laughs at that, allows Remy to pick him up, allows a hug. They eat ice cream, Deceit cries more than once, and Remy awkwardly tries to give comfort before they head home.

“Let them know you’re feeling fragile,” Remy says gently.

“I will,” Deceit replies, quiet and soft, “…I don’t know if I’ll sleep though…I’d ask to sleep with someone…but…I can’t…”

He sighs, and looks at Remy’s thoughtful expression.

“Hm…as a kid my mum always kissed me goodnight whenever she and dad argued…always helped. You want a goodnight kiss?” Remy asks with a grin, “just on the forehead. You’re cute, gurl, but I’ve got my eyes on someone else~”

Deceit snorts, relaxing slightly at the reassurance. Remy’s interest was platonic, the offer was platonic. The forehead was safe. And god, he wanted touch, wanted gentle kisses, wanted to feel loved and safe.

When was the last time he’d gotten touch outside of his anxiety attacks? Outside of needed to be comforted?

He craved it, so badly, wanted affection from Remy, who was enthusiastic and fun and safe. From all his friends, his safety blanket when the world was rough.

“Please.”

Deceit gets the kiss, and in the morning gets one from Patton, even gentler and softer, eyelashes fluttering against the bald patch he dares to show.

“We’re doing kisses?” Logan asks with confusion when Patton brings it up at dinner.

“Why not? I kiss Virgil all the time!”

“That sounds bad,” Virgil points out dryly, watching Roman laugh and choke on the food he’d barely managed to eat today.

But Deceit gets them, almost crying at the feel of touch, at the casual affection given without “need”.

He craves Logan’s single, quick firm kiss to the temple. Roman’s tired but loving kiss on the cheek, complete with a hug. Virgil’s sarcasm before getting black lipstick over his forehead.

He feels fully loved for the first time in six years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trauma is hard, embarrassing and overwhelming, but you're going to be loved. Take care of yourselves guys.  
> I have uni work to finish so chapters will be a little slow, but by next month I should be able to write more! (I have two other stories planned!)


	5. Sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: University deadlines are a struggle for Deceit – for all of them – but Deceit thinks he’s handling it pretty well. In the back of his head there’s stress and fear and everything he’s still fighting, but he’s having good days and the others will always point out his progress even if he can’t see it.
> 
> Warnings: Descriptions of abuse, major gaslighting, fear and talk of failure, bruising, panic attacks, nightmare mentions, past moving in with abusive partners, negative self talk, uh...think that’s actually it for this one!

Deceit had two weeks left to hand in all of his assignments and coursework for that year, and it was resulting in him and Virgil complaining bitterly about essays whilst Logan pointed out that if they’d followed his study plans then they wouldn’t be so panicked _now_.

And well, he was _right_ , but that didn’t help right now. Virgil was more vocal about it than him, because of course he was, and whilst Deceit was miserable over deadlines and joining Roman in claiming he was quitting university he was _almost_ happy. Deadlines were a normal thing to worry about. Messing up your study schedule and realising you had two weeks to write over 4,000 words for three different subjects? Normal.

He was doing well, he was feeling normal, and he was happy to ride out the two weeks on this feeling.

“You say you’ll quit, but you won’t,” Patton points out after Roman throws his memory stick out the window, “now go get that before you start regretting your decision.”

Deceit smirks, makes eye contact with Virgil, and starts laughing. This was what university was about, right? Messing up and having fun and listening to your room mates leaving the dorm to go scream at three in the morning because the computer had deleted all their work?

“I have one painting left to do for art,” he says, breaking the silence, “tell me to do it, because my brain is saying no.”

“Do it,” Logan calls from another room – how had he heard?

“I hate science and I’m never doing another science class again,” Deceit throws his arms in the air dramatically.

“Mood,” Roman and Virgil reply in unison.

Every hour seemed to both drag on forever and yet last only seconds. Time seemed to be some sort of abstract concept invented for the sole purpose of torturing university students, he was sure of it. Patton finds the idea almost humorous, suggesting he take up philosophy again next year. Deceit hums, neither agreeing or disagreeing. He’d need to think that one over.

 

“ _What are you going to study?” his boyfriend asked one day, watching Deceit fill out applications, ending his commentary on his choices – which were too far away, which he couldn’t travel to, which he wasn’t applying for, and so on._

“ _Philosophy, I think,” Deceit was careful to watch for his boyfriend’s reactions, “or…psychology, maybe.”_

_His boyfriend hummed. “You’d do better in some sort of science major,” he said, “don’t you think philosophy and psychology are kinda baby ish?”_

_His words and tone left Deceit no doubt that this was yet another thing to agree with, even if he had no intention of following through. Science as a major? Not for him, thank you very much. But he nodded, and let his boyfriend push the application papers away and kiss him. Soft, gentle, almost like a reward for giving in and not arguing._

“ _You’ve been listening to me really well recently,” his boyfriend half whispered, “thank you for trying so hard…”_

_Deceit sighed happily, and smiled, enjoying the softness and pleasure that followed. It was worth it, wasn’t it, when the good times were so good?_

 

He wakes up with ink on his forehead, which makes Virgil laugh whilst Patton takes a wash-cloth to it, chastising Virgil for being “unhelpful”. Patton’s tone is so feather light though that Virgil just laughs again, making Deceit smile. This was softness, this was friendship, like warm sunshine peeking through the shadow of a tree.

Logan is by his and Patton’s sides constantly for two nights solid. Logan has done and handed in all his work, and he hates pulling “all nighters”, but he keeps awake the full forty eight hours, offering coffee and tea and keeping them on track. Deceit is sure it’s the only reason he finishes the essay for World History, and Patton knows for a fact it’s the only reason he manages to submit _anything_ for Criminology.

It’s not all mass studying though.

Remy drags him out to a dance of some sort – Deceit isn’t keen on dances, and is especially reluctant after the mess he feels he made of the last party he went to. But he enjoys it, likes the music, likes being able to sing along and only have Remy hear him. He likes dancing _with_ Remy, the way the enby is wild and chaotic and yet so controlled.

Up close Deceit can see they have the body of a dancer, and pesters Remy until they admit they’ve been doing ballet since they were six. Deceit thinks it’s neat, and Remy is happy for the lack of negativity or judgement.

Roman pulls him to a theatre group meeting, and he’s silent in it but enjoys it, admitting he’s willing to go again sometime. Maybe one day he’ll audition for a part in one of their plays, but he’s not ready for _that_ yet. Not ready for the limelight, to be seen in full glory, not yet.

Virgil convinces them all to go paintballing. And sure, Patton thinks it’s mean that Deceit aims for Virgil nine out of ten times at first, but Virgil is fucking _vicious_ , and it takes exactly thirteen minutes before Patton agrees that Deceit had the right idea. They leave sore and still arguing over whether or not the final score was fair or not, but they enjoyed it, and Virgil is smug about it.

Later, Deceit screams and sobs in his room over the bruises left, mind back in difficult places once again, but Virgil is there to help him through it. He’s through to the other side within the hour and he can’t help but wonder how he ever thought he could do this alone. How he ever _wanted_ to do this alone.

 

“ _I got into the local university!” Deceit half squealed down the phone, excited and rambling about all the courses he wanted to take, all the classes – making sure to primarily talk about the science classes, of course, even if he didn’t want to take them._

_He knew quickly something was up, and made sure to be gentle and apologetic and sympathetic that his boyfriend was rejected. But the damage was done, and he quickly realised there was only so many excuses he could find to not have to see his boyfriend. So three weeks later he’s on the floor of his bedroom with his boyfriend, who had been strangely quiet._

_And then - “let’s move in together. I’ve got a job lined up, I can support you.”_

_Deceit was thrilled that his lover found a job, congratulated him, said yes, kissed him and whispered sincerely that he loved him. But he couldn’t fully hide his nervousness, and it wormed into his daily routine, into his speech, expressions, everything._

“ _Don’t you want me to get a job too?” he asked one day, and his boyfriend only raised an eyebrow at first, gentle touches stilling for a moment._

“ _You don’t need one. You’ve got me, you only need me…right?”_

 

“Come _on_ ,” he begs himself, “come on, we’ve got a _week_ , we need to finish this! _Agh!_ ”

The frustration only grows when he messes up his schedule, when he realises he’s spent a full day doing nothing but scrolling through tumblr for _some_ reason. It baffles him that he does so much that is clearly counter-productive, but he’s still doing it. Virgil would say “mental illness” followed up by some outdated meme. Logan would give a half hour explanation about the ways PTSD changes the brain and makes you more liable to do dumb shit.

He however, prefers the route of complaining bitterly to himself whilst cursing whichever piece of technology wasn’t working. He’d call it therapeutic, Patton would call it unhelpful, and Roman would and has and _is doing_ exactly the same thing.

He texts Remy desperately asking for help, and the enby shows up with their easel, sketchbook and a set of paints, ready to work alongside him. He smiles thankfully, and Roman joins them, complaining that he hadn’t been told Remy was over, hugging the enby tightly.

“Feeling better?” Remy asks.

“Will be once this year is over,” laughs Roman, “I’m going back to Spain to see my family, and Virgil’s coming with me!”

Deceit smiles, but goes quiet, not entirely sure how to feel about discussing summer plans. Mostly because he had none. He had no friends outside these five, he was still uncomfortable around his family – their relationship had yet to heal and he _hated_ it. He wasn’t even sure where he was staying.

And there was, of course, the social issue. Deceit was fully aware that without the others around him so much he was unlikely to even _attempt_ to be social, and it scared him that he’d be away from them all for the summer. Sure, they’d all decided to live together in the dorm next year, but he was pretty sure none of them wanted to spend any time in summer with him. He wouldn’t choose to be with him, after all.

So that was definitely weighing on his mind, and was exactly as helpful as throwing a match on a burning building. Except the building was falling down and there was a gas leak and someone had committed arson and Deceit was stuck inside and-

“Breathe.”

It’s Logan.

-maybe he wasn’t _stuck_. Just feeling like it. Which was valid, yes, but still…a…

“What’s the term?”

“Cognitive distortion,” Logan says calmly, and presses a kiss to Deceit’s forehead.

 

“ _You don’t seem to enjoy physics.”_

_Deceit looked up to see a boy with thick glasses approaching him, clutching a physics textbook. He vaguely recognised him from a few of his classes, but couldn’t place a name to his face. So he shrugged, not wanting to confirm it in case word got back to his boyfriend._

“ _It’s hard,” he said instead. Which wasn’t technically a lie – it’ wasn’t hard for him, but many people do find it hard. So really…not a lie._

“ _Would you like some help? I’m Logan, by the way.”_

_Deceit hesitated, because on the one hand he’d very much like a friend, and so far all his friendship attempts had been thwarted by, well, himself. And someone he could talk to and study with would make it easier to get through the class. But he’d been ruining his relationships for four years now, he wasn’t going to stop just because of a class he didn’t enjoy._

_So he snapped at Logan, and made sure to keep pushing him away. He never talked about Logan to his boyfriend, never spoke about anyone that he wanted to be friends with. His first year at university was hard and lonely, and it made him more bitter than ever before._

_He had sunk so low, with barely passing grades, no friends, and an increasingly difficult relationship with his family. His boyfriend wanted him to stop talking, stop studying, do nothing but be there, be home, be…reliant._

_It was at the beginning of his second year, after a long and painful summer, that he decided he’d had enough. There was nothing his boyfriend could do to him that he hadn’t already, so what did he have to lose, really?_

 

His work was _finally_ in, and he had never been happier. Admittedly, it wasn’t to his best standard, but he’d been working with Picani to be gentler on himself, so he tried to remind himself that he’d had a lot going on and should be proud of himself for his achievements.

“What if I fail the year?” he asks Patton quietly, two days after handing everything in.

Patton hums, as if in thought, before smiling. “Then you’ll find something else to do!”

Patton says it so confidently that Deceit almost believes it. It doesn’t stop him crying at night, waking from nightmares and night terrors alike. He was worried sick, and he had no way to communicate this without crying and running off, only returning when he could lie about his feelings confidently again.

“It’s just a lot of mixed emotions,” he says the words to Picani slowly, carefully choosing them. Choosing to tell the truth was a conscious decision, and a difficult one still. He found himself wondering at times if it’d always be so tricky.

“Regardless of how you do, it doesn’t reflect back on you,” Picani says seriously, “if you fail it just means you aren’t cut out for university right now. And that’s ok.”

Deceit had _wanted_ to say it was easy for Picani to say that, the man had two degrees and a PhD. He had a good job, even if he had to deal with people like Deceit, and he knew he owned both his own car and his own home. Deceit wasn’t sure what the future held, what he had in store, he wasn’t sure about _anything_. He tries to say a bit of this, but just coughs and chokes on the words.

“I’m just scared…” _of what?_ “…that everything I was told is true.”

Ah yes, the crux of the issue, that kept him up late at night. It was hard to ignore five years worth of being called stupid and worthless and useless. Of being told he _used_ to be smart. Being expected to fail, then mocked for it, but equally every success being turned into something negative. If he spoke about his successes then he must have a superiority complex, yet if he didn’t then he was a secret keeping _liar_.

He seeks out Logan one night, heart sinking when he sees bags packed, and goes to return to his own room when Logan gently pulls him back.

“I’m not leaving for two more weeks,” he says, “I’m just prepared. How can I help?”

Deceit looks away, lies on his lips, ready to spill if he says anything. So he just stares at the blank wall that usually held a poster of the solar system. The poster always had a rip on the bottom left corner from when Roman fell on it on moving in day, and Logan still got cross about it if it was mentioned.

“Do you think…” He sighs, breathing deeply. “…Do you think I’m stupid?”

Logan frowns, and shakes his head. “No. Not at all.”

“What if I fail this year? What then? Will you still be my friend?”

“Of course. And I…don’t know what you’ll do if you fail, but I’ll still be your friend, and I’ll help you find something new to do.”

“You all seem so confident I’d bounce back from failure.”

And Logan smiles, so soft and so beautiful, so caring that it’s hard to imagine that this same person has a reputation of being “cold” and “Spock-like”.

“Dee, there is nobody else that I know that can bounce back better than you.”

 

_He went back and forth on his decision for weeks, the fear of leaving almost as great as the fear of staying. His boyfriend noticed his agitation, of course, and his responses made it only that much harder to decide. On the one hand, he wasn’t safe, but on the other hand…he didn’t know who he was or how he’d survive if he were alone._

_He makes his mind up after one particular argument, wherein he checked his emails whilst his boyfriend was talking. It wasn’t a purposeful thing, they were just talking, his boyfriend played on his phone all the time, and he was checking for emails from the university. But suddenly his boyfriend was sulking, then yelling, angry, declaring that Deceit is being rude, ignoring him, not prioritising him._

_And Deceit shouted back._

_He was horrified at himself, clasping his hands over his mouth before breaking into apologies, but it was too late. His boyfriend was even angrier, and the rage only made Deceit want to shrink back further._

“ _Sure, I’m the bad guy. This is all my fault, isn’t it? God, I’m such a shitty boyfriend!” his boyfriend yelled, “go on, say it, I know I’m the bad guy here, aren’t I?”_

_Deceit’s first instinct was to take it back, to apologise and give in, insist that no, no, his boyfriend wasn’t at fault, it was his. But for the first time in maybe three years he’s done with this, and sees right through it, though he’ll never quite be able to pin down why it’s **this** time that does it._

“ _I’m not doing this. You do this every time. You just want me to apologise. You’ll say it has to be **somebody’s** fault, and since I’ll have said it’s not yours the blame will fall on me. I’m not doing this anymore.”_

“ _Excuse me?” His boyfriend was even more worked up. “You’re the one who never apologises! You’re argumentative, you never take responsibility, it’s always me who’s to blame!”_

_Deceit felt the words like blows to the head, each one making him doubt himself, his resolve wobbling, crumbling into pieces. He tried to respond, but his boyfriend was louder, angrier, more intense, and Deceit couldn’t keep up. So he caved, and later that night made his decision. He had to leave._

Deceit returns to Logan often in the evenings. The others are sleeping earlier, but Logan has been staying up later, watching the stars, talking about how his favourite constellations were finally visible.

“Isn’t it annoying to have to wait and be tired in order to see them?” asks Deceit, who was less interested in astronomy but perfectly interested in what Logan had to say about it.

“I suppose so,” agrees Logan, “but it’s worth it. Look how beautiful they are…”

He points out various ones to Deceit, who nods along, trying to keep track. Logan, of course, is very aware that Deceit will remember exactly none of this, but he appreciates the effort, and that Deceit actually listens. Not many people would listen to his “lectures” in full. Virgil could almost do it. Patton and Roman would try, but neither were any good at listening to things they didn’t find interesting.

He didn’t blame them – he was exactly the same, which is why he knew nothing about dance and theatre despite Roman’s info-dumps every movie night.

“You’d make a good astronomer,” Deceit says casually, and Logan _beams_.

“Thank you. You would make…” He thinks carefully, looking Deceit up and down, “…a good counsellor. Or, perhaps, working with children.”

Deceit laughs, shaking his head and changing the topic. He didn’t believe either of those things for one moment. Besides, he liked psychology and philosophy, not children. Though a counsellor could be ok, if he got through his degree first…

“I appreciate the thought,” he says, and rests against Logan’s shoulder hesitantly.

Logan smiles and gently takes his hand, squeezing gently but otherwise not doing anything. Deceit was ok with that. He did want to be held and have fingers run through his hair, but realistically he was going to panic at the second one and be potentially uncomfortable with the first.

So he rests, and Logan resumes his talk of the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Recovery is hard. It’s reworking your head, rewriting your thought process to something better, something healthier. Changing your outlook, learning to look at things in a new light.  
> Chapter is titled after P!nk’s song “Sober”.


	6. Whataya Want From Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Deceit wants to enjoy the summer, but that’s difficult when going to the swimming pool is enough to destroy a lot of the progress you’ve made. Logan, Patton and Remy help him out, but the damage is done, and Deceit knows that he’s taken a step backwards. Near death experiences will do that to you.
> 
> Warnings: If you’re at all sensitive to the idea of near death experiences, drowning or suffocating/being strangled then skip this chapter.  
> Apart from that – descriptions of abuse, panic attacks, flashbacks, Deceit making stupid decisions because he doesn’t want to be a pain, being at risk of death due to abuse, death threats, mention of needles and injury involving needles, mild throat slitting (yes that sounds dumb, no I don’t care. It happens, but it’s only a “superficial” injury), some suicidal sounding talk from Deceit briefly, negative self talk, 2000s era emo clothing (that’s a joke, I’m trying to be funny-)  
> Ahem, and serious again – implied rape/non-consensual/dubious consent at the following parts:  
> “Deceit can feel tears pricking at his eyes” (just that paragraph)  
> and  
> “Your parents are at work today” through to “He’s awake after Logan”

Deceit was hiding in the changing rooms at a swimming pool, clutching his chest and trying to breathe.

It was the third week of summer, and he’d been thrilled to be invited over to Patton’s, especially since Logan was there – the three of them, unable to go to Spain with the other two, were together, having fun. It was exciting and everything Deceit wanted.

He’d been so happy to be included that he’d _stupidly_ agreed to go to a swimming pool, enjoy the hot weather whilst it was still so bright and sunny. Patton had been so eager, Logan had liked the idea, and he hadn’t wanted to mess things up by declining.

A nd yet now he was stuck in the changing rooms,  hoping they wouldn’t wonder why he was taking so long.

H e’d successfully acted  _normal_ so far this holiday.  He’d minimised his attacks,  and ok so he lied a lot but that wasn’t such a big deal...or was that a lie too?

B ut there was no way he could handle being in that pool.

“Dee, what’s wrong?”

Damn, Patton was there.  He couldn’t tell him the truth  _now_ , could he? Well, he could, but-

He shakes his head, breathes deeply and  opens the door, thankful for the cubicles. Whoever invented cubicles was his soul mate, for sure.  (He looked it up later. Robert Propst was the closest he could find, and he took exactly one look at the pictures of him before deciding he wasn’t his type.)

“I’m fine,” he lies, “uh, interesting pattern there, Patton.”

“Well, you know me! I love my _Pattons_!”

D eceit rolls his eyes, not sure which was worse – the pun or the bright nausea inducing  pattern on Patton’s trunks.

“Let’s go! Logan’s already in the water!”

Scratch that,  the water was still the worst.

H e lets Patton drag him along,  a heavy lump in his throat.  He manages to stay out by crouching on the side,  but  it doesn’t work for long before they start getting suspicious.

“You _can_ swim, right?” asks Logan curiously, and Deceit nods slightly, cursing himself for not lying – at least that way he’d have an excuse.

“Come on in then!” Patton looks ready to cheer him on, clapping excitedly, “it’s warm!”

“Patton, it’s summer in Florida, of course it’s warm.”

D eceit smiles weakly,  looking down  at the water. He takes a deep breath, and jumps in.

 

_He’s being held underwater, and he can’t hold his breath much longer._

_He curses himself for agreeing to this, curses himself for admitting he can’t swim underwater, that it makes him nervous. He tries to tell the truth and it just lands him struggling to survive, over and over again. He struggles, lungs burning, trying so hard not to open his mouth._

_He’s pulled out the water, enough time to take a gasp of air, hear his boyfriend say **something,** and then he’s under again._

_His lungs hurt, his chest aches, he thinks he’s crying but it’s hard to tell underwater. The water is pressing against him on all sides, closing in on him, crushing him._

_He swears his life flashes before his eyes, and he finds himself gasping, brain begging him to breathe, take in air, only to panic and short circuit when he takes in only mouthfuls of chlorinated water._

_ He struggles furiously, tugging on his lovers arm,  thrashing wildly, but his boyfriend won’t let up, keeping him underneath.  His vision starts to blur, but he’s pulled back up. _

_His boyfriend watches him cough up water and choke, but rolls his eyes. “It’s not that bad. Come on, this will be good for you.”_

“ _Stop,” Deceit half whimpers, throat sore and voice hoarse, “I think I almost drowned.”_

_His boyfriend raises an eyebrow, gives him a quick peck on the cheek and shoves him under once again._

 

He comes to lying on the tiled floor on the side of the pool,  coughing and wheezing, his throat sore, body shaking,  too disorientated to know what’s going on. He thinks he sees his boyfriend  standing over him, and sobs,  looking away in shame.

“Dee, it’s us. Logan and Patton.”

P art of him recognises this as a good thing, but the past tugs him back, whispering in his ear how that means he’s made  _ friends _ , friends that his boyfriend will _ hurt  _ then hurt  _ him  _ for making.  He tries to move away, but collapses, muscles weak and seemingly fragile.  He sobs at his percieved helplessness, and gives in to  the pair  slowly picking him up, placing him in a wheelchair.

“Thanks, we’ll return this shortly,” he hears Patton tell someone, and then he’s being moved.

H e doesn’t look at them as they gently help him dress,  a mix of shame and horror.  He hadn’t wanted them to know the very worst parts,  the parts of him that hurt the most  and haunted his nightmares.  There were simply parts of him too vulnerable and too fragile  to trust with others.

T hey try, of course, gently asking what happened,  but he refuses to answer, refuses to speak,  and ends up going home  despite desperately wanting to be with his friends.

H is mother is confused and concerned, but he refuses to  tell her anything. He knows she and his dad are seeing a counsellor of some sort, and he refuses to add to the family’s difficulties.  So instead he hides in  his room, door  shut,  curled up under the covers in his bed  and  not answering any messages that come his way.

Surely they’ll get the point and leave him alone?

 

_ His boyfriend  has his hands around his throat, tight and constricting, anger in his eyes, alongside something Deceit doesn’t want to think about. _

_ He tries to struggle,  tries to push him off, gasping for breath and  feeling his muscles give in, unable to keep up the fight. _

“ _You like this, huh?”_

_He can’t help but feel his lover has misunderstood, and tries to shake his head, telling himself that if he can see that it hurts, that he hates it, then maybe he’ll stop. So he looks at him with pleading eyes, lets out some strangled cry as his vision goes black and his chest starts to burn._

“ _You know, strangulation is meant to be a slow death,” his boyfriend says, “it’s like suffocation. Never as simple as you think.”_

_ D eceit can feel tears pricking at his  eyes,  body relaxing against his will,  too tired to keep going. He looks at his bedroom door desperately, and feels  lips at the part of his neck not being held.  He lets himself cry,  and  lets himself block out the rest. _

 

R emy and Logan were his most stubborn friends, objectively.  Patton had agreed to leave him alone after several back and forth messages, and Virgil and Roman stopped messaging as much once he told them explicitly he didn’t want to talk. The three still sent him texts, hopeful and reassuring,  but they didn’t pester him.

B ut not Remy, and not Logan. No. Those two had to turn up at his house, telling his  parents that they were concerned about him, and could they please see him?

H e hates having people in his room, but there’s nowhere else to go,  so he’s forced to remember everything that’s happened whilst others have been in the room, and it’s distracting.  He gets snappy with them,  telling them that they’re pushing too much.  He wants to be alone.

R emy breathes deep, tilts their head  and says calmly, “do you? Or do you just want to feel safe?”

A nd Deceit doesn’t have it in him to  talk philosophy,  and just stares at Remy,  hoping that prolonged eye contact would make them uncomfortable enough to leave.

N o such luck, Remy  doesn’t feel uncomfortable, and just stares back until Deceit gives in and throws himself back onto the bed.

“What do you want from me?” he asks, “you know I’m messed up, why do you feel the need to ask me more about it?”

“Because,” says Logan, quiet, “if we know what happened we can stop it happening again. Or at least, be aware in case it does.”

D eceit wants to scratch at his skin. His scars itch and burn,  like fire  lapping at wood,  like  acid- _ no _ .

“I was doing well, wasn’t I?” he asks, just as quiet, “and I messed up again.”

“Gurl, we all mess up. That’s recovery for you.”

“Recovery sucks,” mutters Deceit.

 

_ H e’s never been so sure of danger, and he hates that his body has chosen to freeze instead of doing something useful. _

_ There’s a sharp knife pressed to his throat,  pressure enough to leave a mark even if nothing happens.  He’s alone in the house. His parents will be the ones to find him,  when they return . And usually he’d tell himself he’s overreacting, but he can see murder in his lovers eyes, and he’s not sure what he did to cause this. _

“ _Heh, you’re making me kinda nervous,” he tries to keep his voice light._

“ _Good. I could kill you right now, if I wanted.”_

_ H is blood runs cold.  He wants to scream,  but all he can do is stay still as a statue. _

“ _I even have options. An overdose of my insulin could kill you too, you know. Or just a shot of air. So much I could do with a needle...”_

“ _Please don’t,” Deceit whispers, “ please, I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry...”_

_ T he knife presses harder,  and he doesn’t dare talk,  the muscles straining against the blade,  threatening to burst at any more pressure. _

_ W hat other ways were there? Fight, flight, freeze, appease. Freeze wasn’t working, he couldn’t run or fight here… _

“ _I wanted to have a fun weekend with you,” he tries, croaking out the words and closing his eyes tightly, “there’s better things we could do, r-right?”_

_ H e hates the stutter, he hates himself, he hates everything.  He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be alive, doesn’t want to exist.  He hates how low he’s sunken, how desperate to  not die he is.  Not like this, not bleeding out  at the hands of his l over. _

_ H is boyfriend slices the knife across his skin just a couple centimetres, and he can feel  beads of blood drip out. _

“ _Please-”_

_ H is boyfriend hesitates, then pulls the knife away, laughing and shaking his head. _

“ _You overreact, you know. Do you really think I’d kill you?”_

_ D eceit doesn’t know what to say, but he touches his throat and sees tiny bits of blood on his fingers when he pulls them away. And so he nods slowly,  watching his boyfriend carefully for a response. _

“ _Good.”_

 

“Have you ever...genuinely thought you were going to die?” he asks quietly.

“No.”

“Yes.”

They look at Remy, who grins sheepishly. “I fell off a cliff when I was ten.  Never try paragliding with kites.”

N either Logan or Deceit have a reply to that, and so Deceit breathes in deeply  before continuing.

“...I panicked in the pool...because...because...”

Virgil would tell him to rip it off like a band aid, but his throat kept freezing,  the words becoming nothing but puffs of air.

Roman would tell him to write it down. That, he could do. His handwriting was scratchy and shaky, his hands refusing to not tremble,  but it was down.  A brief sentence.

_ My ex boyfriend  nearly drowned me. _

T hen another.

_My ex boyfriend strangled me and nearly slit my throat._

He looks away as Remy and Logan read the words with horror.  He doesn’t want to tell them that he knew he was going to end up dead if he stayed with his ex, that he’d become yet another statistic.  That people  would inevitably use his death as a mere debate tactic – look at this random death, this extra  number on a chart.

S ome part of him believed, or  _ wanted  _ to believe, that he was worth more than a  handful of numbers, more than a percentage.

“Have you considered going to the police?” Logan asks gently.

Deceit laughs weakly. “ Of course not. It’s my word against his.  Besides, he’s a manipulative little shit, he’d probably try claim I was the one at fault.” His voice is bitter and angry, and not for the first time he’s unsure whether he’s angry at his ex or angry at himself.

Logan doesn’t want to admit he has a point. He hates the idea of this man being out there, but Deceit is right that there’s no physical proof. There may be text messages, perhaps, but that wasn’t enough.

Remy is fully willing to track this man down and deck him. They’ve got no problem with violence if it’s deserved, and  _ damn it  _ this is deserved.

Deceit feels too weak to do anything but continue to lie back on his bed, and so Remy leaves Logan to take care of him, needing to go to work over in the next state. Deceit thanks him quietly, and turns away from Logan, fearing judgement. He was messed up and he hated it. He didn’t understand why they wanted to be around him, when there was always the chance of him having some sort of major meltdown.

His mother asks Logan to stay the night, suggesting he shares Deceit’s bed like Virgil used to. And Logan enjoys hearing tales of Deceit and Virgil, but doesn’t fail to see Deceit visibly react to the idea of sharing a bed.

So as Deceit’s parents talk about Virgil and Deceit’s scene kid phase he quietly reassures Deceit that he’ll sleep on the floor. He thinks Deceit smiles, but he can’t be sure. So instead he turns his attention to pictures of Deceit and Virgil with horrifically bright hair and outfits clearly picked by mid 2000s wannabe emos.

“What made you guys think four belts were necessary?” he asks, “dear god, did you backcomb your hair?”

Deceit pulls a face, not minding the teasing. “Hey, I was cool back then. At least I didn’t do what Virgil did and get a weird ugly tattoo from some dodgy guy at the back of the fish and chips shop.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“...That’s illegal.”

“So’s stealing chocolate bars, didn’t stop twelve year old Virgil.”

Deceit  _ liked  _ talking about his misadventures with Virgil. A time when his life was untainted by his ex, a time when things were simpler. When the biggest thing to worry about was whether or not Virgil was going to be grounded for the patchy tattoo on his shoulder.

“Is that why he has that Jack Skellington thing now?”

“Yup, he’ll say otherwise but it’s a cover up.”

Logan chuckles, and Deceit finds himself texting Patton, asking shyly if he’d like to stay over as well.

The night is hard. Deceit knows Logan would never hurt him, but he’s still half expecting to be woken up unpleasantly, or worse, not allowed to sleep. So he stays awake until he’s certain that Logan’s asleep, and then slowly lets himself drift off.

 

“ _Get up already, I’m bored.”_

_His boyfriend wasn’t being as pushy as usual, which was good, but it still made him nervous, sitting up and trying to subtly keep distance between them._

“ _Want me to make breakfast?”_

_His lover scoffs. “Sure, and let you mess it up? I can make my own, thanks.”_

_Deceit bites his lip, and looks away._

“ _Hey, relax. Look, I’m sorry, I know I can be kinda shitty in the morning...”_

“ _No you’re not.”_

_The lies are out his mouth automatically, and though his boyfriend doesn’t say anything about it he can see the satisfied smile on his face._

“ _That’s ok then. Now that that’s sorted...” He kisses Deceit, slow and lazy. “You got anything planned for today?”_

“ _You know I don’t,” Deceit says, a little sarcastically, but making it sound genuine, and kisses him back._

“ _Your parents are at work today, right?”_

“ _Yeah...” His father usually worked from home, but he’d been called in. And stupidly he’d let the pair know, which annoyed Deceit. His boyfriend was so much more pushy when they weren’t there._

“ _Then we’ve got enough time that I can make you feel good, right?”_

_Another kiss, and then he’s being pulled in, and if he focuses hard enough he can pretend he has a choice in this._

 

He’s awake after Logan, and his first instinct is to apologise, panicking and offering to make it up to him. It’s only after the words are out that he realises that Logan is giving him an odd look.

“Why would you need to make anything up to me? What are you apologising for?”

His heart sinks at the reminder that his reactions and thoughts were unusual  compared to most. Most people didn’t fear waking up after others. Most people didn’t understand why “I’m sorry!” were the first words out of his mouth.

He laughs. “Ah, sorry, woke up mid dream is all!”

Logan raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else about it, instead looking at Deceit’s hair, which he realises is uncovered, bal d patch on show.

“Your hair is pretty,” Logan comments, “I’m surprised by how good its condition is, considering the amount of hair dye and backcombing you tortured it with.”

D eceit finds himself chuckling, relieved at the lack of judgement and comment,  and almost blushes at the compliment.  He  got more than he used to, courtesy of his new friends, but he still wasn’t sure how to respond to them.

“I uh...thank you?”

He tenses up, expecting an insult to follow it up, or some demand for Deceit to be more thankful, but Logan just smiles and offers to make breakfast.

“Patton won’t be happy if we don’t eat,” he says simply, “I’m not a great cook, but...I can do an omelette maybe?”

Deceit follows him down into the kitchen. He himself was a good cook,  and would secretly love to show off to his friends,  but he doesn’t voice this, instead nodding and agreeing to omelettes.  He sort of helps, by passing ingredients to Logan (ok, by passing the eggs), but he considers it an improvement to refusing to leave his bed or talk to anyone.

H e leans down on the counter top to watch, so tired he almost drifts asleep – and would have, if not for  Patton’s arrival, the offer of hugs being accepted, clinging to the affection like a snake clings to warm rocks.  With Patton and Logan around he starts to feel safe again.  Not fully, no. He was still on edge, still trying and failing to push back near death experiences, after all.

But he felt just a little safer with them around.

He hopes one day he feels safe by himself as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Nothing wrong with taking insulin, I’ve just had death threats from a diabetic and it’s very scary.


	7. Leave Me Alone (I'm Lonely)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: With Virgil and Roman back in the country the five join Remy for a sleepover that stretches for an unspecified amount of time. Deceit is struggling, but he enjoys teasing Virgil, enjoys eating pizza with the others, enjoys feeling loved by all his friends, and he’s doing his best to fight the voices in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Oh boy...usual ones of “descriptions of abuse”, and general shit that comes with being an abuse survivor. There’s bits about bald patches and scarring, and reference to the uh...”incident” that caused Deceit’s scars. Deceit second guessing himself and his friends...a lot. References to past sexual stuff that’s implied to not be...fully consensual. (Mentioned/referenced is all in this chapter). Mention of snakes. Manipulation, gaslighting, conflict in relationships. Aggression aimed at a bag of jelly babies. Mention of seven minutes in heaven (Patton looks it up and is horrified) Lying. Lots of misunderstandings. Deceit being angry, like...hurt angry. And someone’s gonna kill me for the ending but that’s not a warning, just a fact.

Deceit figured he should be happier now that he was with his friends, the six of them camping out in Remy’s flat, turning the floor into one large mass of pillows and blankets. There were cookies that Patton had made, and he loved the way Roman and Remy had painted the ceiling to resemble the night sky. With Logan’s help they’d made it incredibly accurate, and Deceit couldn’t help but admire it.

Patton was hugging Virgil by the waist, head pressed under his arm and half covered by plush animals. Virgil in turn had spread himself out like a starfish, and if Roman didn’t move his leg he was going to wake up with a numb leg as a result of Virgil.

Logan and Remy were off to the side somewhere, and Deceit was pretty sure it was Remy who kept randomly sitting upright, saying something sleepily, and immediately falling back asleep. Hard to tell in the dark, but there we go.

Truth be told, Deceit _was_ happier. Or, happy. Or, something. He had kind of given up on working out what his emotions were about the impromptu “reunion sleepover”. Sure, he was happy to have Virgil and Roman back, and being invited over with his friends was a pretty good experience, but it was still...difficult, somehow.

He snarls quietly to himself and sits upright, running a hand through his hair, hissing as his nails graze the hairless patch.

“This is stupid,” he mutters, “there’s no reason for us to not be able to sleep. We’re safe, we’re tired...what’s _wrong_ with you tonight?”

There was, of course, no response, and he just groans loudly, getting up  and carefully heading into the bathroom  to get away from the visual noise that was currently Remy’s apartment.  The tick-tick-ticking of the clock echoes as he rubs his head and stares into the  bathroom mirror,  which was so Remy –  lipstick stains,  whiteboard marker scribbles in the corners,  chips down one side.

H e contemplates splashing water over his face, like people do in books and movies,  but  he’s fully aware of how he’ll react to that,  and he failed to come up with anything worse than waking up his friends due to  setting off a panic attack by doing something he knew full well would  _cause_ a panic attack.  Sure they’d been supportive so far, but what if that was the last straw and they kicked him out and-

“Ok, let’s pause,” he hisses to his reflection, “they’re not going to do that! They’re nice people, they care about us!”

H e swears his reflection smirks at him,  swears he hears a voice  whisper  _look at your face, someone you said cared did that to you. How are they any different?_ He swears  his reflection taunts him by leaning forwards, and he  finds himself touching his  scars gingerly,  feeling the rough lumpy texture  beneath the pads of his fingers.  _Scales_ , as Remy had taken to calling him,  like a snake. Snakes were good.  Snakes shed their skin and start again.

A  nice metaphor  for getting rid of your abusive ex and starting a new life with new friends.

S till, the scars would never go away, only fade,  and he hated that every time he saw himself in the mirror he could see  what his ex did, that the whole world could see it.

“Deceit, are you in there?”

I t’s Virgil.

“Yes. I’ll be out in a minute, don’t worry.”

 

“ _I told you I was allergic,” he snapped, and his boyfriend rolled his eyes, focusing on their nails, coloured a lovely shade of peach that Deceit would come to hate._

“ _I said I was sorry, what else do you expect me to do?” his boyfriend asked coldly, though Deceit swore he could have seen tears in his eyes._

“ _You...You should have listened to me to start with,” Deceit muttered, “it’s a miracle I didn’t lose my eye...”_

“ _It’s a miracle I passed,” his boyfriend ‘corrected’, “my teacher had such a go at me for not checking for allergies beforehand, you know. If it weren’t for that I bet I’d have gotten top marks. My latex work is amazing.”_

_It wasn’t, but even if his face wasn’t covered in horrific burns he still wouldn’t have said that. Instead he sighed and scratched at his arm._

“ _That’s not the point. You didn’t listen to me. You...you haven’t been listening to me for a while. I don’t get what happened.”_

_Let it never be said Deceit didn’t try to be honest, once upon a time. He gingerly made eye contact with his boyfriend, whose eyes were now shiny, face red and scrunched up, as if ready to cry._

“ _You don’t think I listen to you? Of course I do! I remembered that it was your birthday the other day, right? I even got you a present! And I got you those flowers you like, and whenever I get chocolate I always get the type you like as well!”_

_Deceit picked more at his skin, hearing reasons to back off but equally still hurt that whilst he was talking about being ignored when he said no, about being hit and pushed around, called names he didn’t like...all his boyfriend could think of was chocolate and flowers._

“ _Besides, really it’s you who doesn’t listen. If you did listen to me you’d know I’d had a really bad week so of course I forgot about your allergy. My parents were yelling at me all weekend and-”_

“ _I’m sorry about that, but you still...you hurt me! You hurt me and you act like I should just...shut up and say nothing about it!”_

“ _Well maybe you should!”_

 

Virgil, Roman and Deceit are shopping for groceries. In theory. In reality the group chipped in money to go get pizza and cupcakes, and tuna for the stray cats. It wasn’t a difficult job, it was actually quite fun, even if they had to skip two stores because Virgil happened to be banned from both of them.

“How have you been banned from _both_ of them?” Roman asks, “I mean...seriously, what do you do when I’m not looking?”

Virgil laughs, and makes eye contact with Deceit, who bursts into giggles at the memory of Virgil being banned from Claire’s after annoying their friend one too many times by asking for nipple piercings. Or the time Virgil attempted to dye his hair in the Wal-Mart toilet, got jumpscared by a lost dog, and ended up getting thrown out for getting purple hair dye all over three aisles.

“He does _everything_ ,” Deceit says seriously, “trust me, give him half an hour and he’ll wreak havoc without even intending to.”

“That’s harsh,” jokes Virgil, “at least it wasn’t me who got us kicked out of Chuck-E-Cheese that time-”

“Can’t hear you!” Deceit yells, covering his ears as he goes bright red, hearing Virgil yell the story loud enough that nearby people started staring.

“What made you think bringing a llama into Chuck-E-Cheese was gonna be a good idea?” questions Roman as they approach the tills, “how did you even _get_ a llama...”

“I can’t tell you,” Deceit says, straight faced, “I signed a contract not to tell people about the guy.”

Roman doesn’t comment on this, partially because he can’t tell whether Deceit is actually being honest or not, and partially because if he is being honest, then he _really_ doesn’t want to know. Instead he shakes his head and leans over to kiss Virgil, who playfully bats him away.

“Nuh uh, you’ll ruin my lipstick~”

“You prefer the lipstick to my kisses? How dare you~”

“It took me _forever_ to put this shade on this morning, Princey!”

“It took me forever to find you, my soulmate~”

“Barf.”

Deceit rolls his eyes, looking away from their mushy moment. He was happy for them, and would never tell them to stop being so obviously in love, but sometimes he wasn’t sure how comfortable with public displays of affection he was.

“Dee, stop making a scene already, just kiss me!”

“I don’t want to.”

He pauses, realising he spoke aloud, realising that nobody had said anything to him. He glances uneasily at Virgil and Roman, and sighs with relief that neither seem to have noticed.

_Or maybe they have and they’re ignoring you. You’re already crazy in their eyes, after all._

“Oh, do you think they’ll mind if we get jelly babies?” Virgil asks after the pair kiss quickly, “I’m craving them...”

“I’m craving _you_ -”

“Princey!”

“Yeah, yeah...of course, go grab some before it’s our turn.”

Deceit pulls a face when they kiss again, smirking as Virgil playfully bats his arm, trying hard not to flinch at the movement. If either notice, they say nothing, and Deceit leans against the trolley, making loud judgements about the pizza choices. (Patton liked pineapple on pizza, he had to be stopped. And Virgil was a _vegetarian?_ Since _when?_ )

Virgil returns, waving the bag of jelly babies, and Deceit glances up at them for barely a moment before going rigid and slapping them hard out of his hand. They smack against the wall, falling limply onto the floor, and there’s silence as the trio look at the bag, the other shoppers looking at Deceit as if he’d grown a second head.

As Deceit struggles to come up with things to say, for an excuse that could explain such a strong yet casual reaction to the bag of sweets, Virgil grins, not missing a beat before saying “to be honest, I prefer haribo anyways.”

Neither Virgil or Roman bring up the incident again, and Deceit is thankful for that, because for all his skill in lying he had no idea what lie could explain his reaction.

 

“ _I know I hit you, and I’m sorry, but that’s what happens when you have low blood sugars. You can’t blame me for that!”_

_Deceit rubbed his cheek, not really wanting to say anything, because sure, maybe that explained that time, but their blood sugars were fine the previous six times, so what was the excuse for that?_

“ _You’re ok though, right?”_

_Deceit glanced at their boyfriend, and sighed, considering that maybe he was overreacting. His boyfriend was struggling at the moment, after all, what with family problems and difficulties at school._

“ _Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that.”_

_He doesn’t know why he apologised, but he feels lips on his, hands on his hips, at his zipper, and maybe he’ was a little uncomfortable with the timing, but he wasn’t going to say no. Even if at the back of his mind he knows full well that it’s yet another dramatic topic change._

 

“I am not joining in with _never have I ever_ , Rem, that’s a kids game. That’s the shit Virge and I played back when we were twelve,” he huffs, lying down across Logan’s lap, “besides, what _haven’t_ you done?”

“There’s a _million_ things I haven’t done, gurl,” comments Remy, and Roman’s eyes light up.

“Name _one_ ,” Virgil cuts in. He loves Roman, and he likes _Hamilton_ , but Roman knew the entire script, and would recite it all if given half a chance.

“Like...uh...”

“Exactly.”

“How about truth or dare?” suggests Patton, “like...Virgil! I dare you to...prank call Roman’s mother!”

“Lame,” Deceit says, none too quietly, and laughs as Patton chucks a pillow at him, “just saying! You lot have such sucky ideas for sleepover games. I bet you lot were the same sort who thought seven minutes in heaven was such a _risqué_ game.”

“What’s seven minutes in heaven?”

“Google it.”

Patton does so, despite Roman and Virgil trying to stop him, and promptly looks a mixture of concerned, confused and horrified.

“People... _play_ this?”

“Sure. Virgil and I-”

“Look, Dee, it’s great we’re friends again, but if you tell them _anything_ about that time, I _will_ cover your pyjamas in peanut butter.”

“Bitch.”

“Language!”

Remy cuts in before it can escalate with “well, what’s your idea then, Dee?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question.

He freezes as everyone turns to him, and he’s suddenly very aware of being put on the spot to make a decision. Or, suggest a decision. Realistically, something he’s done before and will inevitably do again, but in that moment he’s so painfully aware that he’s going to mess up that he doesn’t feel like thinking logically.

Thankfully, Logan cuts in, the logical one to the rescue.

“Why don’t we just watch disney films for a bit? Gives us time to think, whilst also being fun. And...I still haven’t seen Moana.”

Deceit whispers a thank you as Roman gasps, going on a dramatic spiel about how _dare_ Logan not have seen Moana, and that now they _had_ to watch it, to correct the injustice. Logan ignores Roman, instead smiling and squeezing Deceit’s hand gently.

_Be careful_ , the voice in his head warns,  _if he’s being nice to you then he probably just wants something. He probably thinks you’re easy, that if he’s nice and sweet and charming you’ll give in to him just like you did with your ex._

The voice is harsh, and Deceit has to clap his hand over his mouth to prevent himself snapping at it to shut up. No, Logan wasn’t like that, Logan was _decent_. They were _all_ decent. Logan was just blessed with the ability to work out the best logical solution based on the facts at hand. That wasn’t being purposefully “nice and sweet and charming”. That was just trying not to make a mess.

The voice didn’t shut up though. It carried on, loud enough to drown out the songs in Moana, loud enough to miss parts of the conversation. Loud enough that Virgil suggests they go to bed early because Deceit looks tired.

He’s not tired, he’s just distracted.

“I’m fine,” he lies, smiling, “really. Let’s watch another before we go to bed. How’s _Pinoc_ _c_ _hio_?”

 

“ _You know, when I made you dinner I was kinda hoping you’d do something for me in return,” his boyfriend said, soft and teasingly, fingers gentle over Deceit’s stomach, “and I didn’t mean the dishes.”_

“ _You’re insatiable,” Deceit teased back, “I’m spotting a pattern here though. You don’t need to try bribe me into having sex, you know.”_

_It was exactly the wrong thing to say, because it was met with yelling and snappy comments, fingers digging in painfully into his stomach._

“ _Ow-I’m sorry, I didn’t-”_

“ _You think all I care about is sex, don’t you? You think I’m a slut or something, huh?”_

_Deceit struggled to get away, seeing bruises start to form on his ribcage, alarmed at the sudden outburst that he really should have seen coming._

“ _You’re the slut, you know. You always assume I’m talking about sex. You seriously can’t think about anything else, can you?”_

“ _What’s wrong with you? Let go of me, you’re hurting me!”_

“ _If you’d stop struggling it wouldn’t hurt, idiot!”_

_Deceit felt only fear as nails dig in, and he started to wriggle away, completely unprepared for his boyfriend’s rage, and feeling more than a little guilty. His leg bent awkwardly, caught beneath his angry lover, twisting at the knee. He cringed and winced, trying to duck away from his lover’s hands. There was too much going on. Too much noise, too much feeling, he couldn’t tell what was going on any more._

“ _I said let go of me!”_

_He shoved hard, and froze as his boyfriend fell off the bed with a thump. The two fall into silence as they lock eye contact, and Deceit felt something sink, guilt eating away at his insides._

“ _Look, I’m sorry, I-”_

“ _See what you did? You say I hurt you, you say I’m mean and whatever. But you just hurt **me**. You just shoved me off, and you intended to.”_

_ H is boyfriend stood up, glaring at Deceit,  and  Deceit may never be able to fully remember the details, what happe ned to make him so desperate for his boyfriend to get off him, but  he’ll never forget the cold in his eyes as he tells Deceit  that the real bad guy is him. _

 

“You ok, Dee?” Logan asks quietly, standing by him to help wash up the few dishes they’d used that day, “you seemed distracted last night.”

“I’m fine,” Deceit lies, “just tired, you know? And a bit stressed about the idea of going back to uni. I still haven’t declared my major, and we’re graduating this year.”

“How have you not...nevermind. If you’re sure, but...you can talk to us if anything’s bothering you.”

D eceit sighs,  staring at the soapy water,  considering it. The fact was he wasn’t even sure what to say, how to explain the strange  up and down feelings  in his chest.  The sensation of being perfectly fine one d ay, one moment, and the next wanting to curl up and die.  The sensation of knowing he was doing better, getting better, and yet  being so  absolutely sure he was in the same place he always was.

“...I’m just confused, that’s all,” he says eventually, “I...appreciate it though. Um, the talking offer. It...means a lot.”

Logan smiles. “I know you’d do the same for us.”

“Huh?” Deceit turns to face him more fully, not quite catching it.

“I just said, you’d do the same for us.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I know you would.”

D eceit smiles, a bit nervous when Logan places a hand on his shoulder.  It was a comforting  gesture,  and he wasn’t sure  if the logical boy knew it or not, but he  _ did  _ appreciate it.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. But you realise you didn’t need to do the dishes?”

“You guys said I could help out later, earlier,” points out Deceit, “if you’re not going to let me cook-” 

“Only because you keep setting things on fire.”

“- _if you’re not going to let me cook_ then I can at least make myself useful by washing up.”

L ogan shakes his head, holding out his hand for the next dish to clean. “ Sure, but when we said you could help out  later , we didn’t mean do the dishes.  We meant -”

D eceit drops the dish,  turning on Logan in barely a  second, and  Logan steps back at the anger in his friends eyes.

“Oh, it’s like _that,_ is it?”

Logan frowns, thoroughly confused, which was  _ not  _ a feeling he enjoyed. “ What are you talking about?”

“You want me to be _helpful_ , hm? You want me to be _useful_?” His voice is shaking, and vaguely Deceit realises he’s being irrational, but the clock won’t stop ticking, and there’s blood rushing through his head, and he _trusted_ Logan, he trusted _all_ of them, and he’s been hurt by people he loves one too many times to let even a trace of a threat go unheard.

Even when there was no threat.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Lo,” he hisses, and Logan goes bright red, shaking his head quickly.

“No- No, I think there’s been a misunderstanding-”

“Oh! Oh, a _misunderstanding?_ You know, I’ve heard all the excuses!” Deceit can feel tears running down his face, and he doesn’t bother to stop, “I’ve heard all the reasons why I’m _wrong_ , why I’m _overreacting!_ I’m not stupid, Logan! I may not have an IQ of 163 but I’m not _stupid_.”

I n another universe none of this happens.  In another universe Deceit doesn’t misunderstand, doesn’t associate the simple words with  words laced with  hidden threats and  betrayal.  In another universe they’re cleaning up still, and Deceit’s chucked the sponge at Logan, who has soap in his hair  and a smile on his face.

“I’m not just someone you can manipulate into having sex with! I don’t want to be useful in _that_ way!”

“Deceit, you’ve got the wrong idea!”

I n another universe Deceit  calms down,  relaxes, breathing deeply. In another universe he’s far enough along in his recovery  to recognise that  he’s misunderstanding, that this isn’t the same as before, and he’s crying and Logan is holding him, the others rushing over to check on him.  In another universe the dishes lie forgotten  for reasons so much better.

“You know, Logan, I am _so_ tired of people telling me what I’ve got wrong.”

I n another universe  Deceit hasn’t hit boiling point,  in another universe  he’s happy, in some other space in time he’s  ok and he’s smiling and  if he misunderstands he can reign himself back in.  In another universe  Virgil drops a plate into the sink and the water splashes everywhere. In another universe Remy has made a beard out of the  bubbles.  In a nother universe Patton has hidden rubber ducks in the washing up pile, and Roman is singing  off-key on purpose and  someone has put soapy bubbles on Deceit’s back.

But in this universe  it takes just one  badly timed phrase for the paranoia to sneak back into Deceit’s heart. In this universe he has spent five years  second guessing himself, apologising for nothing, and  acknowledging that  his lover wants his body more than he wants  _ him _ . 

In this universe  Deceit  is screaming and yelling and  walking out the door because  despite the part of him begging him to look at the situation without the  past tinting every interaction there’s just too much of him  desperate to survive another day.

A nd in this universe  despite his friends best efforts he leaves the apartment with his stuff and they don’t see or hear from him again this summer.


	8. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Deceit wants to talk and make up with his friends, but in a much more real sense the pain is too much, and he just keeps running. Meanwhile, Patton meets his ex boyfriend, Logan struggles with one sided feelings, Remy is frustrated, and Virgil and Roman just want to keep everyone as together as possible. Deceit’s truly part of the family, even if he doesn’t realise it yet.  
> Warnings: Oh god, here we go again. Abuse, descriptions of abuse, self isolation, PTSD and general mental health struggles. Self harm and suicidal thoughts. Patton and Roman see the abuser. Heavily implied parental abuse. Homophobia. Dee is a bit of an asshole at one part. Scarring and mentions of burns. Ableist slur (cr*pple). General shittiness...basically Dee is a mess in this. I think that’s it for warnings though.

The good thing was that Deceit was still their dorm mate in the new year. Logan had felt a flood of relief, had desperately tried to explain to Deceit, trying to pretend that maybe Deceit hadn’t got his texts, or his voicemail messages, or really _had_ been out when he went over to try talk and apologise. The others had been so keen to see him again, to reassure him how much he meant to them.

The bad thing was that  D eceit had shut himself in his room, locked the door and refused to speak to them.

He would come home late at night and be out the door before most of them were awake. The one time Virgil had been awake in time to see him go Deceit had taken one look at him, then sped up his getting ready to leave process. And Virgil would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt. Like it wasn’t seven years ago all over again, being ignored and rejected in favour of an  _asshole._

“What are we supposed to do?” he asks Roman quietly one morning, “he won’t even look at us, never mind listen to us. It feels like...like we’ve lost him...”

“Maybe he just needs some space and time,” Roman says hopefully, but they both know that he’s lying to himself, just hoping Deceit will come back in his own time.

Virgil is usually awake when Deceit returns, his natural insomnia keeping him up long into the night. He sneaks a glance at him, noticing how much thinner he’s become, noticing how tired he looks, pale and dark shadows under his eyes. Hunched over with fatigue obvious in his muscles, veins bright blue and popping out from his wrists, gloved hands trembling.

The place is quieter without Deceit around. It has less life, less energy, and even though they all try keep up their optimism, carry on with group meals and movie nights and all the stuff they’ve always done, it’s still so clearly missing something – someone.

Virgil tries to confront Deceit at the end of the second week, babbling out that he _missed_ his friend, that they all did, that they needed him, that they would do anything if it meant he’d return to being their friend again. His voice had cracked, strangled and choked, a messy wave of hurt as he tries to make his point.

Deceit had watched him with shiny eyes, shook his head and fled the house, not returning for two days.

 

“ _I love you.”_

_His lover lay next to him, arms wrapped around him securely, hair damp and smelling distinctly of coconut and a hint of raspberry. Eyes shining, voice soft and caring, almost reassuring._

“ _I love you too,” whispered Deceit, kissing him gently, relaxing into the gentle grip, “can you stay the night?”_

“ _I think so. I want to.”_

_And Deceit had fallen asleep with his boyfriend, happy to feel the warmth, the comfort of another human, someone who loved him, and if their relationship fell apart in the months to come, if it later kept him trapped in a cycle of pain, then right then Deceit would never have guessed._

 

Patton was trying to keep to a regular sleep schedule, because staying awake until five in the morning watching _Parks and Rec_ wasn’t the worlds greatest idea. Especially in your final year of university. It wasn’t easy, what with all the stress from classes and oh, their friend ignoring them. It was difficult to pretend he didn’t feel betrayed by the sudden distance.

“Come on,” he insists one day, close to tears, “at least...at least lie to us, or say something to make us leave you alone...anything is better than _this!”_

Was Deceit even speaking these days? Remy and Logan still shared classes with him, but reported general silence and a lack of participation. Picani had called him up to ask what was going on with Deceit – that the first two sessions back Deceit had been silent throughout, and that he’d since just stopped coming. And at home he certainly wasn’t speaking to _them_.

He was still uploading every now and then on his social media, the occasional photos of cups of coffee and scribbled notes. No captions, but enough to show he was alive, if nothing else. Patton could feel thankful for that at least.

It’s Virgil who scrolls back far enough to show Patton a photo of Deceit and his ex boyfriend. It’s a Christmas photo, the two in matching sweaters, the boyfriend with an arm around Deceit, grinning, glitter over his face. Deceit is smiling, but his posture is stiff, rigid, and there’s an air of being uncomfortable around it. There’s a hint of a fading bruise on his wrist, mostly hidden by the sweater.

Patton burns the image into his head, just in case he ever meets this person.

 

“ _Picture time!” called Deceit’s mother, smiling widely as she held up her new camera, “you two look so sweet in those sweaters!”_

_Deceit made a show of groaning as he stepped next to his boyfriend, who eagerly swung an arm around him. “Mum, we’re twenty. We’re not sweet!”_

“ _I think we’re sweet,” his boyfriend said smugly, and Deceit rolled his eyes, adjusting his sleeves to make sure his bruises were covered._

“ _You would,” he muttered, and bites his lip when his boyfriend dug his fingers into his side._

“ _Say cheese!”_

“ _Cheese!”_

“ _Cheese.”_

 

Deceit wanted to go back, to resume his friendships with the others, he really did. He could hear Patton and Virgil talking about shows and music when he came in each night, could smell the food they made earlier. He could see new photos being put up on the noticeboard, and a pamphlet declaring Roman was the star in the university play this year.

_He deserves it_ , he thinks to himself, and makes a note in his  calendar. He would go, even if they weren’t talking right now.  Roman deserved to have people watch him.

R emy kept trying to talk to him in Digital Arts,  though the enby had never been very good at not getting frustrated when ignored. And the more frustrated he got, the more on edge Deceit became, the more eager to ignore and avoid he became.

_Better to not talk, just in case. You’ll probably mess up and then they’ll hit you. No, no...no, Remy’s not like that._

He’s constantly shaking thoughts from his head, and sometimes people give him odd looks for it. He knows they’re wondering why he keeps shaking his head, or hisses at nothing, or bats at the air. He knows that most people would consider him crazy for it, and he really can’t bring himself to care.

He could see the hurt in Logan’s face, and _that_ he cared about. He so desperately wanted to apologise, explain, beg for forgiveness, _something_. He wanted his friends back so badly, and yet every time he went to do so he’d freeze up, body rigid. He swears he can hear the voice of his ex whispering threats in his ear, can feel hands over his body, and the bald patch on his head stings like it’s a fresh wound all over again.

So when Logan looks at him in criminology he just looks away, and tries to blink back the tears.

 

“ _Dee, what happened to your face?”_

_Deceit glanced at Virgil, who had taken a break from his usual habit of hating him and throwing insults and criticism to show...concern?_

_He touched the bandage covering the burn gingerly, and hummed, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t scream “my boyfriend used something I’m allergic to on my face and it burnt my skin away.”_

“ _I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said instead, “really Virgil, maybe you should focus on your own face? I saw that bruise the other week.”_

_He wanted to hug Virgil, tell him to leave his parents’ house and come with him. Virgil didn’t deserve to be hit for being gay, for anything. But he knew that if he said anything things could get bad, for both of them. Worse than they already were._

“ _Fuck you,” hissed Virgil, “last time I show concern for the likes of you, snake face.”_

 

Patton and Roman are out at a coffee shop when Patton recognises a face, recognises the barrista, who doesn’t even blink as he makes the coffee. The freckles, the floppy ginger hair, such bright eyes...they’re _cute,_ and they flash a smile when they hand over the coffee. Roman grins, the two exchange brief words, and all Patton can think is that _this is him_.

This cheerful, pretty barrista is the one who hurt their friend, who put bruises over his pale skin, who burnt his face and pulled out his hair. This is the man responsible for their friends pain, for the isolation their friend was forcing themselves into.

Patton was not an angry person. He avoided anger. He’d get upset and disappointed, but never angry. But as they sit down he can’t help but feel a wave of anger directed at this man. He bites his lip hard, tries to focus on what Roman’s saying, but Roman can see he’s distracted, and looks over at the barista for a moment.

“He’s cute. I didn’t think he was your type though,” comments Roman.

“He’s not. He’s Deceit’s _ex_.”

Roman stiffens, turns and stares at the man, who notices and waves enthusiastically.

“No way...for real?”

“I’m certain. He matches the pictures exactly.”

The conversation quickly becomes hushed whispers about what to do. Deceit used to like this place, should they warn him? How? And what do they do in general? Both are up for just punching the guy, but both also know that would just get them into trouble. And worse, it could get Deceit into trouble if the guy ever put two and two together.

They discuss it with the others later, inviting Remy over to discuss. Remy knew all the baristas in town, maybe they could have an idea of some sort? But they just sigh, admitting that that particular shop had no problem with... _problematic_ employees. They could go in with all the evidence and the employers would just shrug.

“And violence is a bad idea,” points out Logan, “it could get back to Deceit, and get us in trouble with the law.”

“I know,” mutters Patton, _but I want to._

And then Deceit walks in, returning home early for the first time in a month. He freezes when he sees everyone gathered around, when he notices how they all stop and look at him. And god he wants to run to them, tell them about his _shitty_ day, how he’s so god-damn stressed already, and he’s _tired_. And yet all he can do is stare at them, frozen in fear and something he can’t quite pinpoint.

“I forgot my pencil case,” he lies, voice hoarse and yet so soft.

He turns and leaves, even as the others get up and yell at him to stop, stay, come back.

Days like this it felt like nothing had changed at all.

He felt like he was still his sixteen year old self scared into silence, hiding from his ex, lying and falling into habits so bad yet so encouraged. He was still so scared, still avoiding food, still spending lunchtimes in the toilets to avoid being seen by people. Still coming up with shit excuses, and the only real difference was that these days his bruises were self inflicted.

He slams his arm into metal railings once he’s far away enough to feel somewhat safe. He winces at the pain, but does it again anyway, over and over until he’s crying, on the ground sobbing and clutching his throbbing arm. It hurts and in a way it hurts _more_ than the emotional hurt stabbing at his heart. It’s intense and the body’s natural reaction is to insist he ignore the emotional wounds and focus on this new one.

He’d be lying if he said it was the first time he’d done it.

He’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t do it again.

 

“ _Our pasts may be scattered and at times overshadowed by sadness, but they're also an irrevocable part of our lives and personalities.”_

_He’d become obsessed with the game Katawa Shoujo when he was seventeen, a sweet if sexual game about people with disabilities. He identified with Hanako, a scarred and scared girl, and even if it was a heterosexual game with sex scenes he skipped whilst muttering about wanting to befriend them, not make out, he still enjoyed it._

_Of course, his boyfriend thought he was weird for it._

“ _It’s a sick game,” he muttered, “romancing cripples...”_

“ _It’s not about that,” Deceit argued, and felt the need to defend them, these people that he swore understood him more than his boyfriend did, “it’s about...about being **normal**.”_

_He wanted to say that it was about being different – like Hanako, he felt different with his too-obvious facial scar, felt the same fear and intense panic – and yet being normal, loved and like everybody else._

“ _You’re just projecting about that damn scar,” his boyfriend suddenly snapped, “stop whining about it and get on with your life.”_

_He recoiled, hurt flashing across his face, but his boyfriend just rolled his eyes and continued._

“ _You can’t be so sensitive. You make everyone miserable. You make me miserable. Always so focused on that scar, like...poor little you, you have a scar. Big deal. Grow up and get over it.”_

_And if Deceit cried and uninstalled the game, who really cared?_

_Certainly not his boyfriend._

 

“Virgil, have you ever liked someone you shouldn’t?” Logan asks cautiously and out of the blue.

Virgil looks up from his essay, and raises an eyebrow. “I grew up with homophobic parents,” he points out, “everyone I liked was someone I shouldn’t.”

Logan nods, making a vague affirmative noise, and Virgil notices he’s still on the same page he was half an hour ago.

“You like Deceit, don’t you?”

Logan sighs. “I’m not going to act on it. But I think so.”

Virgil nods. Even if Logan _wanted_ to act on it, with Deceit avoiding them it wouldn’t exactly be easy. Plus Deceit was already nervous and paranoid around them. Admitting to a crush would probably just make it worse.

“If I said anything, he’d overthink our interactions,” Logan continues, “and I...I don’t want to lose him as a friend, you know? I know he’s not ready for any sort of relationship...what do I do, Virge?”

Virgil bites his lip, extremely unsure of how to react to Logan admitting to emotions, to feelings for someone else. This was Patton’s territory, not his. But then again, he technically knew Deceit more than the others, so maybe…

“Just give him time. You’ve got all the time in the world, Lo. Keep being friends, and maybe one day he’ll be up for going out with you. You’ll just have to see.”

Logan smiles slightly. “Thanks, Virge.”

Virgil grins, trying to pretend he felt confident. He didn’t. He wasn’t sure if Deceit still counted as their friend, or if he’d be ok. What if he was never ok again? What if this was the end of their friendship? He breathes deeply, trying to ignore the invasive thoughts, and makes a note to call Picani and ask for advice on the situation.

In the meantime, he had an essay on the effects of the invention of gunpowder throughout history to do, and even if he _really_ didn’t want to do it, he still needed to get it done.

 

_Deceit hated life. He hated living with his boyfriend, he hated how much he was forced to give up on for the sake of pleasing someone who didn’t love him. He hated being made to do things he hated for the sake of being hurt a little less. He hated that he still loved this man, still wanted to be with him, make him happy, and the fact that at the same time he **didn’t** made him want to bash his head against a wall._

_It was too much. He was too much. Too much and too little and not enough and yet overwhelming and-_

“ _Stop it,” he hissed to himself, clutching his head, “please, stop it.”_

_He curled up tighter on the bed, internally begging himself to do something, not just sit there feeling miserable. But every movement felt like he was wading through neck high mud, and he just couldn’t do it. He didn’t think he really wanted to do it._

“ _Whatever I do I’m still stuck,” he mumbled, “whatever I do, nothing’s going to change. Why do I bother. Why don’t I just...”_

_He didn’t let himself continue that line of thought, cutting himself off with sharp words and a sharper knife._

 

What was the point, Deceit wondered, of living when you couldn’t even bring yourself to talk to your friends? Your best friends, your _only_ friends?

He was sat on a wall, hugging his jacket to himself tightly, trying to ignore the bite of the cold wind. He hated himself, hated how he couldn’t bring himself to talk to his friends. He’d managed to go to a session with Picani, after what, a month? Picani had suggested he talk to them, and he had flipped, crying and yelling that he _wanted_ to.

He so, so badly wanted to, and yet it was as if there was a wall of glass between him and them. One that however much he tried, he couldn’t get past. They couldn’t tell there was a wall, and they could cross it easily, and that _terrfied_ him.

(He wanted to be with them again, but he needed it to be on his own terms, really.)

(Or maybe he just needed someone to sit him down and be with him, even if he said nothing or just cried throughout.)

He didn’t know what he needed, just that his heart burned every second he spent without their friendship.

“I’m so tired of this,” he mutters, “there’s nowhere I can go any more. I’m just stuck.”

Every day he wrestled with the same demons, and here, by an abandoned warehouse at three am, all he could do about it was cry, and pray that maybe the next day would be easier.

It wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (“Our pasts may be scattered and at times overshadowed by sadness, but they're also an irrevocable part of our lives and personalities.” - not my line, it’s a line from Katawa Shoujo.)
> 
> Uh, so like...recovery often involves doing shit you know isn't good, and you don't want to do, but you do it anyways because you just...can't not do it. I have and still do ghost people for months on end and I hate it, and I try so hard not to, but I do it, and I can never really explain why, just that my head won't let me not do it. So here's Deceit having the same issues.


	9. On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Holy shit...abuse, descriptions of abuse, of course. But also scars, self harm, underweight mentions, mentions of a lack of eating, self isolation, talk of people being outed, manipulation, suicide threats, confrontation of abusers, implied parental abuse, Deceit’s ex gets punched, victim blaming, Patton being technically unethical, teenagers not knowing how to handle situations, Deceit low-key suggesting fear of being killed, bruises, mention of a real life murderer that killed his spouse, self-blaming, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, aftermath of self harm, implied suicide attempt via self harm.
> 
> ...good luck? If you need to skip this one, let me know and I’ll give you a quick run through.
> 
> Summary: Patton punches a bitch, Roman and Virgil reach out, Logan is a supportive friend, and Deceit asks for help.

Two months. It was late October and Deceit still wasn’t talking to them.

It was putting them all on edge, frankly.

“Let’s just lock him in the house next time he’s in,” suggests Virgil at dinner one night, a little bitterly, “maybe then he’ll get the message that we want to talk to him.”

“If you do that, he’ll freak out,” Roman points out, gesturing with his fork, “we’d be better off letting him do his thing for a bit longer.”

“You don’t really think that,” argues Virgil, a bit more forcefully than intended, and he winces, “I mean...sorry, Ro, I just...I’m scared for him. He’s become so skinny. I don’t think he’s eating, you know?”

“I know,” whispers Roman, leaning across and squeezing Virgil’s hand gently, “tell you what. Us two will try talk to him later, ok?”

Patton and Logan exchange looks. Logan had been burying himself under a mountain of work, which was another way of saying he was spending a lot of time at the library watching Deceit from afar. Patton was just filled with intense anger from seeing Deceit’s ex that time. Neither had a problem with letting Roman and Virgil just give it a try.

So Roman and Virgil stay up until gone midnight, watching Disney films and cuddling, silently reassuring each other that it’ll be ok. Deceit will be ok. They’ll all be ok. And if neither of them really believed that...well, that was ok too, right?

Deceit enters, soaking wet from the rain outside, showing outlines of bone even through his gloves. His skin is taught and pale, the scar more visible than ever, whilst his hair dangles from beneath his hat in a way that resembles tangled strands of cotton.

“Oh my god, let me get you a hairbrush-”

“He needs a towel, Princey, not a _hairbrush_ -”

“A towel _and_ a hairbrush!”

Deceit freezes as Roman hops over the sofa, running into the  bedroom , whilst Virgil rushes  to Deceit, taking off his hoodie and suggesting he put it on.  There’s no real way for him to know how to react, but he’s pushed into the bathroom with a towel, hairbrush and change of clothes, with instructions to get dry and warm before he “passes out from hypothermia”.

“You always were a little extra,” Dee mumbles, so quiet Virgil barely hears him.

He still smiles as he shuts the door, leaving Deceit alone

Deceit blinks slowly, staring down at the stuff handed to him. He knows full well how concerned they are, knows full well they’ve given him Virgil’s clothes to change into – Virgil was always smaller than him, they can clearly tell how much weight he’s lost then – and he knows full well that this is as good a time as any to make up with them.

He just needs to get dry, get warm, get dressed, and talk to them, apologise and discuss it all.

He slowly gets dry, looking over his arms, covered in scabs and healing wounds that he dare not show them, just in case. They’d be supportive, but he feels so _weak_. He feels pathetic, knowing that all it took was one bad conversation for his past to come crashing down and pressure him into isolation and self harming behaviours.

He notices his hands shake as he gets dressed, noticing that Virgil’s clothes fit better than his own. How much has he eaten today, he wonders, realising that he can’t remember the last time he ate. That was fine, he’d eat later, he could always eat later.

It takes him four tries to open the door, each time retracting his hand as if burned, unwilling and afraid to speak to the two waiting for him. But finally he lunges for the door, twisting the handle and opening it in one smooth swing, and walks out to see the two sat at the table.

“Better?” asks Roman, and it’s a stupid question, a simple question.

All Deceit has to say is yes, or thank you, or anything that lets them know he accepts this peace offering, even if he’s sure it’s _him_ who should be offering the peace offering.

“I’ll return these,” is what he says instead, and like a man possessed sprints into his own room, locking it shut even as he hears Virgil yelling then crying then breaking down into sobs. He closes his eyes tightly, ready to open the door, but he swears he feels a hand on him, breath in his ear, and a voice whispering “you want Virgil to be safe, right?”

And god, even though he knows the voice is from the past, from a time where his actions perhaps made sense, the overwhelming fear for Virgil is just as strong as it’s always been.

“I’m sorry, Virgil,” he whispers, “...your happiness means more than mine, and you’re better off without me.”

 

“ _Virgil’s moved out,” Deceit said quietly, trying to ignore the way his boyfriend stared holes into his head from behind, “I think he’s staying with that kid Kai now. I’m...I’m glad, Kai’s a good kid, and his family is lovely too...”_

“ _Good for Virgil,” his boyfriend says snidely, “I’m sure he’s much happier now. He’s away from his family, at last. Of course, it was inevitable after that text...”_

“ _I can’t believe you did that,” hissed Deceit, turning on his boyfriend, anger rising, “I can’t believe you would hurt someone like that! Especially Virgil! You-”_

“ _Oh Dee, I thought I told you I didn’t do it?”_

“ _You had my phone!”_

“ _Someone else must have done it. Why on earth would I do that, after all? He’s your friend. Sorry, I mean, he was your friend.”_

“ _That...That’s exactly why! You hate me having friends! Virgil was right, you know, you were bad news from the start and I was blind not to see it!”_

“ _Shut up.”_

“ _No! No, and I’m leaving, I’m not – I’m not putting up with-”_

“ _Shut. Up.” Deceit froze as his lover grabbed his wrist, tight with his thumb and fingers digging into the bone. “Shut up and sit down, you’re not leaving. You’re right, I hate your friends, I hate you having them. You don’t need them, you have me. You don’t need anyone **but** me.”_

“ _Please, stop,” whispered Deceit, “you’re hurting me, let go...”_

“ _But I need **you** ,” his boyfriend said pleadingly, “Dee, I’d die without you! If you leave me I – I’d kill myself, Dee!”_

_ D eceit felt tears swelling up in his eyes, and he shook his head. “Please don’t-” _

“ _I’m serious, Dee. You’re the only thing that makes life worth living. So don’t do this to me, ok? I need you.”_

 

Patton breathes deeply before walking into the coffee shop, alone this time, and eyes the counter to check that Deceit’s ex is just finishing his shift. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t found out in advance, however gross and horrible it made him feel. He guessed anger made people do ugly things, and he tried to rationalise it, tried to tell himself it wasn’t _that_ bad, but still…

“Hey, I think I know you,” he says, pausing the man as he walks by, and forces himself to smile, trying to seem approachable. The typical fatherly friend, chill and unpresuming. He steps aside, gently moving the man aside as well.

“Uh, you do?” the man replies, looking unconvinced but unwilling to say anything.

“Yes! From-” Where did Deceit say his ex studied at? “-Monroe Community College! I was in the year above you!”

There’s obvious hesitation from the man. Patton knew he probably sounded convincing, and that nobody wants to admit to not knowing who someone is.

“Uh, yeah, I think I remember you,” the man lies, forcing a smile, “gee, you must never forget a face, huh?”

“That’s me! How’s...How’s life?”

_What am I doing?_ Patton tries to ignore the guilt inside him. He was always a good person, or tried to be. But here he was, and honestly he just wanted an excuse to hit this man.  An excuse people could  _see_ . Because god damn it this man  _deserved_ it.

“It’s been great. No longer dating my boyfriend, but-”

“You dated Deceit, right?” Patton blurts out, managing to reign in the anger to make himself sound more innocent, “a while back, I mean.”

T here’s a flicker of suspicion in the man’s face as he eyes Patton.  At 5’5”, with such stereotypical “dad” clothing he  _looked_ innocent enough. “Yeah, why? What’s he been saying about me?”

“Nothing,” Patton lies, now going _completely_ against his usual motto of telling the truth, “just that the break up was rough.” Not a _complete_ lie.

The man scoffs though, rolling his eyes  in an exaggerated fashion. “ Yeah, for  _me_ maybe. Guy just up and left  one day.  Had a tantrum when I tried to talk to him about it.  I don’t recommend his friendship,  if you guys still talk .”

_Of course you don’t_ . Patton breathes slowly, forcing a smile. “You look happy in photos with him – there’s still a few on his social media, way back now of course!”

He wasn’t fully sure what he wanted. A confession of some kind? To hear that he felt guilty for what he did? Or was he really _just_ looking for an excuse to hit him?

“That was before he left.”

“True...mind you, he looks uncomfortable in some,” Patton chooses his words carefully, “a few bruises, you know?”

The man shifts awkwardly and shrugs. “Yeah, well,” his voice was light and casual, “he always was rather clumsy, don’t you remember? Not surprised you can see bruises considering how much he walked into things.”

It’s the laugh that makes Patton blurt out “that’s a lie.”

“Excuse me?” The suspicion is back, along with something close to anger, “you’re calling _me_ a liar? He is _literally_ called _Deceit_.”

“No thanks to you,” hisses Patton, “did you know he has PTSD because of you?”

“If he has PTSD then it’s not my fault, and he probably deserved it,” he snaps, “don’t come into _my_ place of work calling me a liar, saying I hit him or whatever?”

“I never _said_ you hit him-”

“You implied it-”

“It’s true-”

“Whatever happened is between _us_ , and you should fuck off back to that little-”

P atton punches him.

It’s barely intentional, he hates violence, feels guilty for any sort, but he’s so  _overwhelmed_ by hatred for this person, anger on behalf of Deceit. He’s seen  the way Deceit curls away from  loud voices,  how he bites his lip a little too hard when you touch him without warning, sometimes even with. He’s seen Deceit cry from the smallest of triggers,  full on spasm and shriek  when  the big ones hit.  So how  _dare_ this man sit there and claim he’s lying?

H e can see a trace of blood on the man’s nose as he starts shrieking that Patton punched him, and struggles as he’s pulled away, half feeling bad  for being violent and half wanting to hit him again.  He decides on neither, instead  managing to duck under arms to run out,  not prepared to stick around to see people feel bad for an abusive little... _thing_ .

H e doesn’t stop running until he’s home, and Roman asks where he’s been, why he’s out of breath, and  _is he ok?_

Patton blinks, then laughs,  shaking his head as he settles down, collapsing onto a seat.

“I punched Dee’s ex. I feel _amazing._ ”

 

“ _Virgil, I need to speak to you.”_

_Virgil turned, seeing Deceit, looking nervous and with a deep blue bruise blooming over the side of his face. Even if he hadn’t had experience with bruises, he’d still have been concerned. Even if he hated Deceit, he was still concerned, and he could hear him out. If nothing else, for the sake of their past friendship._

“ _What’s wrong?”_

“ _I...Virgil, I know we don’t talk, but...”_

“ _Spit it out.” He was admittedly nervous. Deceit never beat around the bush. He may not always be honest these days, but he was upfront if he had something to say to you. What was happening to him?_

“ _...You need to be asked to be put into different classes than me,” Deceit said slowly, “I don’t care what you need to tell them. Tell them I’m a bully or some shit, I don’t care. But you need to ask and not stop asking until they do it.”_

“ _Why don’t you do it?” Virgil demanded, “and Dee, you are a bully. You outed me, for fucks sake.”_

_Looking back, the tears should have told him everything, but at the time he’d just noticed Deceit blink them away, lean in and hiss at him._

“ _I can’t do it, Virge! I...don’t ask me to explain, but I can’t! Please, just do it!”_

_He’d sounded so desperate that Virgil had visibly hesitated._

“ _And whilst you’re at it – get Kai to unfriend my boyfriend on facebook.”_

“ _Why should I listen to anything you have to say?” Virgil snapped, “you out me, you lie, you make demands that I don’t understand-”_

“ _Virgil. Understand me on just this.” Deceit had never sounded so clear, so sincere and serious. “You were my best friend. And I will put you, your safety and your life over mine any time. So when I tell you to change classes and make Kai unfriend my boyfriend, understand that that is exactly what I am doing.”_

_Deceit had turned and left, and if Virgil had been a little older, a little more mature, had understood what adults could do to help in this sort of situation, he would have gone straight to the school counsellor and told her everything, told her all the things said, all the things he’d seen and heard._

 

_But Virgil was sixteen, with issues of his own, and with no faith in adults courtesy of the ones he’d grown up with. So instead he did what Deceit told him to do, and regretted everything he didn’t do for years to come._

 

“Deceit, Logan, you two will be partners for this next project,” their lecturer states, not seeing the two freeze up, “Elliot, you go with Draco – no Draco, you’re not allowed to go with your twin this time...”

Deceit turns to look at Logan slowly, and Logan smiles weakly. Deceit had since realised that he’d misunderstood Logan, sure, but how were you supposed to admit just how badly you’d screwed up, especially to someone you really cared about?

“You...uh...you any good at class presentations?” Logan asks, taking a seat next to him, “I’m told I sound a bit flat in mine...”

Deceit breathes deeply, looking away as he shrugs. “...I guess it depends. Um...which murderer are we analysing?”

Logan turns to look at the sheet whilst Deceit runs a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the shadows passing by, or the way he’s sure he can spot his ex across the classroom. The whispers in his ears, the pain of fresh bruises overriding the pain of the actual wounds healing on his shoulder.

“Richard Crafts, the woodchipper murder. I was hoping for one of the more interesting ones,” Logan admits, and Deceit chuckles at how down Logan sounds. So few people could be sad about getting the “wrong murderer” to talk about, but with Logan it was...sweet, in a way.

“Woodchipper murder...which one is that?” Deceit asks, shuffling closer slightly, watching Logan smile. It felt good to indulge in socialisation again, especially with Logan. If only he could keep this up.

“Uh...he killed his wife using a woodchipper and a chainsaw, I believe.”

Deceit tenses up, though Logan doesn’t notice.

“Wait, no, he killed her with a blow to the head, then...”

Logan notices shaking a moment before realising that discussing someone murdering their spouse in front of an abuse victim may well _not be a good idea_.

“We’re getting out,” he says firmly, and Deceit is only barely aware of being lifted up and coaxed out of the room, and although people stare the lecturer doesn’t stop them, only watching in concern.

Logan gets Deceit out into a quiet room, sitting him down and instructing him to focus on his voice, keeping calmer than he was feeling. “Grounding,” he says, “listen to my voice, ok? We’ll get you through this. We have all the time in the world, Dee, just take your time.”

Deceit’s eyes were dull, wet with tears but staring off somewhere Logan knew he couldn’t see. He was frozen still, not screaming or making any noise, just off in another setting, another place and time, body trapped as his mind went back over whatever he was being forced to remember.

He keeps talking, changing topic at regular points, until Deceit’s eyes look less glazed, at which point he instructs him to find five things he can see. “Can you tell me?” he asks, “it’s ok if you can’t, Dee, but-”

“I...your tie...” A deep breath. “...a door...” Deceit bursts into tears, ugly and shaking his body with each attempt to breathe.

“It’s ok, it’s ok...you’re safe, Dee...”

“I’m never safe,” Deceit blurts out, tears getting worse, more intense, “I will never be safe for as long as I can remember-”

“You will be safe, Dee, we’ll make sure of it. _I’ll_ make sure of it.” Logan has never been so sure of anything else. “I don’t care what you do, how long you refuse to talk to us, I will do anything that needs to be done, _I will not let the past be the end of your future._ ”

And with that, Deceit is gone, not into the past, or out the room, but into Logan’s arms, ducking his head down into the crook of his neck and crying, the chaos in his head loud and messy and angry and distressed, and Logan’s voice so quiet and calm and yet so intensely sincere.

Deceit doesn’t go home that night, but he accepts Logan’s attempts to calm him down, accepts the offered love and care, and falls asleep curled up, strangely at ease, and allowing Logan to gently run his hands through his hair.

 

“ _You’d never break up with me, would you?” his lover asked, voice soft but searching, looking for answers, “you love me too much, right?”_

_The eagerness was because his lover’s friend had been broken up with, so now his boyfriend was on edge, and Deceit knew this. It didn’t mean he had to like it though._

“ _Of course,” he said, smiling, as reassuring as he could be, “I love you, I’d never leave you.”_

“ _And you’re not lying? They call you Deceit for a reason, you know...”_

“ _I’m not, I really do love you.”_

“ _...I think you missed a part.”_

“ _Ah! And I’d never leave you!”_

“ _You sure about?” his boyfriend’s eyes turned dark, “you promise? Promise you’ll never leave me?”_

“ _I...I...”_

“ _Say it!”_

 

Deceit had intended to go home, but he felt too nervous. He’d said too much, or too little, he wasn’t really sure which. He’d let someone touch his hair, had been willing and happy to fall asleep in front of someone, and when he’d woken up his wrist had been on show, and Logan had looked so...so…

Heartbroken.

So he’d lied, lies that clearly Logan didn’t believe, and skipped the rest of his lessons that day in favour of finding a quiet place to stay until he felt ready to face the rest of the world again. And he’d been managing just fine, quietly drawing and studying in a local park nobody went to any more.

And then at some point he’d started crying, and he’d tried so hard not to, but he can’t hold back the tears, feeling himself choke on nothing as he tries to nonetheless. He doesn’t understand why, or what brought it on, but logic doesn’t counteract the chaos. So he buries his head in his hands, massaging his scalp slowly but firmly, digging his nails in and trying to breathe through the crying, taking in gulps of air when he can.

“I’m so pathetic,” he whispers to himself, “I can’t do anything on my own any more. I swear I used to, how come I can’t now?”

H e closes his eyes tightly,  try ing not to acknowledge how painful it was that even though his ex was in the past he was  _still_ affecting him. Still making him isolate himself in fear of getting hurt. But how ironic was it that now he was hurting  _because_ he was alone?

H e lets the tears fall, heavier, droplets on the ground, on his knees, making his sleeves and gloves damp. He was just so tired of it. He was tired of  being stuck in the past, in a time where he would accept being hurt out of fear of being hurt worse – or even killed. He was tired of knowing he would  _still_ accept the pain out of the exact same fear.

W hat was there to do but have your throat tense up as you try to let out sound, jaw freezing shut, body shaking and betraying you as you try to voice that same pain? What is there to do when you can’t get it out, can’t vocalise your feelings, can barely move your body?

Well.

H is wrists hurt so badly,  _he_ hurt so badly. There was nothing he could do to bring himself to care about the bleeding. He knew he should call someone, a doctor, Picani maybe,  but his head hurt just at the thought of it.  Besides,  maybe this was for the best.

“Maybe I deserve to bleed to death,” he whispers to himself, “serves me right for leaving them. I should have known I couldn’t do this alone.”

H e curls up tighter,  blood smearing over his jeans  and matting his hair when he ducks his head.  He so badly needed help, but at the same time he couldn’t help but hate himself and the idea of asking for help.  This was  _his_ fault, in his mind,  and he didn’t see a way out of the mess he was in.

H e  glances at his phone,  seeing notifications again. His friends – if they were still his friends – still sent the  occasional message.  Telling him they were making dinner, sending notes from missed classes,  asking if he was ok even though  t hey had to know he wasn’t going to answer.

L ogically, they’d want  him to tell them just how not ok he was doing.

H e stands up slowly.  There was only one thing for it, wasn’t there?  He had nobody else. His parents were in another state, and knew depressingly little about his situation. He had no other friends.  Nobody else but those five would care if he died, right?  And Picani always said he sh ould  talk to them if he needed support.  And if there was ever a time he needed support...well...

“Let’s see if anyone’s home,” he mumbles to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooly shit I am sorry for such a deep one this time. Uh...yeah. Don’t actually punch people, even if they don’t deserve it. It can get you into trouble with the law and all that. But this is fanfiction, so…  
> Chapter Title is a song by Ashes Remain.


	10. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for a doctor to see you in A&E is a slow and painful process. Deceit would rather his friends not witness the worst he has to offer, but his friends remind him that they knew from the start what demons he fought. And he’ll never have to fight them alone again.
> 
> Warnings: Suicide attempt, self harm, abuse description, incorrect assumptions of parental abuse, Remy implies about their shitty teenage years and past self harm, hospitals, bandages, threats of violence, gaslighting, implied non consensual sexual acts, reference to past rape, homophobia, family problems, nightmares.

Patton answered the door to Deceit, looking worse than he had done in months. His cheeks looked sunken, his eyes were puffy and had deep dark shadows hanging below them. His  clothes were on him out of pure willpower, the weight he’d lost far too visible for comfort. There were tear tracks down his cheeks and his arms were bandaged up tightly.

“Patton, I...I need help,” Deceit whispers, and it’s all Patton needs to hear to be pulled out of his stupor, pulling Deceit in and onto the sofa.

“Dee, what happened?” he asks, sitting by him, trying desperately to work out the best course of action.

“I...I don’t have anyone else,” whispers Deceit, not answering the question and instead staring at the floor, “please Patton...I need you guys...I’m sorry I didn’t...I’m sorry I messed up and left you all like that...but... _fuck_...I need you...”

A strangled whimper breaks from his mouth as he lets out a sob, curling in on himself, body contorting as he heaves and cries, body shaking, animalistic noises escaping every time he opens his mouth to explain. He looks up at Patton and cries harder, face wrinkling up, cheeks red and eyes puffy. Patton bites his lip, and instinctively wraps his arms around him tightly.

“Dee, it’s ok, it’s ok...”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” sobs Deceit, half howling as if in pain, hands in the air trembling, unsure what to do with them, the waves of emotion too strong to do anything, “Patton I-I need...Patton, I...”

“What, what is it…?”

“I need a doctor,” whispers Deceit, “I...I...I can’t...please...please, I need...I need Picani or...or...or _something_ , please, I...”

Deceit doesn’t know how to say “I’ve slit my wrists and I don’t know how much blood I’ve lost”, but Patton seems to get the message, nodding slightly and reaching for his phone.

“What do I need to say?”

“...it’s an emergency.”

 

“ _I’m being hurt.”_

_Deceit had tried so hard to tell someone, to let people know what was going on. He couldn’t keep living with his lover, no matter what. And it hurt, but he tried, half in tears as he tried to explain what was going on._

“ _Your parents hurt you?”_

“ _What- no- I-”_

“ _This is a very serious accusation.”_

“ _I didn’t mean-”_

“ _We’ll have to call the police, and-”_

“ _It’s not my parents! Listen to me!”_

_He ended up giving up. He wasn’t even sure how the miscommunication was happening, only that every time his words were minced, taken out of context, moved around and contorted into something new. And there was nobody he could vent to about it, because he had nobody. He had cut everyone off from him in a vague attempt to create safety and this was his punishment for it._

“ _You ruin lives,” his boyfriend said simply one night, “you ruined mine, ruined Virgil’s, and if I ever let you live alone you’d ruin yours as well.”_

_Looking back, Deceit was pretty convinced his ex was correct._

 

Dr Emile Picani wasn’t part of the emergency services, and never had been. In fact, his only experience with the emergency services was when his patient tried to kill themselves in the middle of a session. It had been a somewhat traumatic event, but he was lucky and recovered smoothly and quickly. So when he got a call from Patton stating that there was an emergency to do with Deceit, he’d just told him to get him to A&E, and that he’d meet them there.

He’d gotten there as quickly as he could – he was lucky to have few enough patients that he could leave the paperwork for tomorrow, such was life working at this particular university – and he was relieved to see that Patton had gotten some of the others there.

Virgil was holding Deceit tightly, hissing at staring strangers, who were perhaps staring for very good reason – Deceit had many layers of thick bandages over his arms, and Patton was holding another roll, talking to a nurse.

“What happened?” Picani asks, running over, fearing the worst.

“I...self harm, I think,” Patton says nervously, “he won’t tell us...”

Deceit buries his face in Virgil’s hoodie, and the emo boy just shrugs. “...Every now and then blood comes through the bandages,” he says slowly, “...we have plenty, just in case, but...”

“I’m sorry,” whispers Deceit, voice muffled and barely audible, “I never wanted to hurt you like this...”

“We’ll be fine,” Patton and Virgil snap at the same time.

“Honestly,” Virgil says, softer, “if this was too much for us we’d have said something, or just have let someone else take you.”

“We know what we’re doing,” Patton adds, and Deceit sobs, a brief smile cracking through the tears.

“Are the others aware?” Picani asks, and Patton nods.

“Logan and Remy are on their way. Roman will be here once his exam’s finished. We told him to finish his exam or else Deceit would probably murder-”

Deceit starts crying harder, and Virgil stops talking in favour of gently shushing and reassuring the boy.

“I see...good...do you need me to do anything?” Picani asks gently, “I’ve got nothing going on this evening, I can wait with you or get you stuff.”

“Can you get coffee?” asks Virgil bluntly, “the waiting time is predicted to be two hours, and like...I’m going to need coffee.”

“Virgil!”

Picani chuckles and nods. “Of course I can. Patton, would you like anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you Dr Picani.”

“What about you, Dee?”

Deceit sniffs, shakes his head and clings tighter to Virgil.

When Picani returns Logan and Remy are there, and Virgil is reluctantly handing Deceit over to Logan whilst Remy wraps another layer of bandages around Deceit’s arms, Patton looking on anxiously.

“You want me to do that?” Picani asks Remy, but Remy shakes his their head firmly.

“No thanks, I...I’ve had practice on myself, in the past. I can handle this.”

Picani frowns, and he sees the others exchange looks.

“...I’m fine now, promise,” Remy says quickly, “I just had difficulties growing up is all, I swear.”

“You know where my office is if you need anything though,” Picani says seriously, and though Remy sighs they still nod and smile, recognising an adult they can trust.

 

“ _You scare me,” Deceit admitted, time and time again, hoping to get the message through that their boyfriend needed to calm down, stop hitting him, stop hurting him._

“ _Good.”_

“ _I’m telling the truth,” Deceit insisted, watching his lover delete texts and block numbers, scanning through his social media profiles, checking for signs that Deceit had lied at any point._

“ _I have to check.”_

“ _Stop! Please, let go!” He could feel his arm start to bend unnaturally, crying at the way the ache of the bone turns to outright pain, electricity through his nerves._

“ _Stop whining and stop telling me what to do!”_

“ _Why do you always insult how I dress?” He wasn’t sure why he ever bothered asking, aware that he was “old fashioned”, “dressed like a prude”, “needed to tone down the goth”._

“ _Because I don’t want to be around someone who looks fucking homeless.”_

“ _What do you need?” He asked every time, even though it was becoming more and more frequent that whatever he was supposed to do wasn’t something he wanted to do._

“ _For you to change your mind.”_

_And like a fool, he ducked his head and gave in, every time, every messed up memory becoming an obedient blur, made up of aching knees and sore jaws and a deep set sense of dirtiness._

 

Roman and Patton had fallen asleep on Virgil, who was feeling the caffeine wearing off but was equally too stubborn to sleep. Logan was still holding Deceit, and Remy was discussing some modern artist they hated with Picani, who had been told by all of them now that he was free to go. But no, Picani insisted on staying, citing that he had a duty of care to his patients, and what sort of doctor was he if he ignored a patient when they needed him most?

Deceit hadn’t spoken in over an hour, and was just staring blankly into the distance. He’d stopped bleeding, but he still refused to let them look, claiming he wasn’t going to let any of his friends “see the mess”. Virgil personally felt that whatever he’d done couldn’t be as nightmarish as his brain would think up, but Deceit looked serious, and he wasn’t going to outwardly question his judgement.

He’d been on edge about letting Logan hold Dee. Deceit was like a brother to him, even if they’d had...a few years of difficulties. Letting someone else hold him felt like handing over a small child. If that small child meant more to him than his own flesh and blood, and if that small child was twenty one.

Virgil couldn’t help it though. His family had more or less abandoned him when he was outed – and if he ever met that guy again then Patton’s punch was going to look like a swat from a god damn fly. He had no siblings, no extended family beyond an uncle who’d called him up to ask whether he’d caught AIDS yet or not.

Back in high school, Deceit had been his only real friend, aside a group of emos that really only talked about music. Which was fine, but not what Virgil wanted. He wanted friends like he had now, and they were a blessing. He had a boyfriend who he loved, who loved him, but at the end of the day there would be nobody like Deceit.

So when the doctor finally calls Deceit in, he can’t help but feel like he’s letting go of something precious, someone who he so desperately wanted to protect and keep safe. But how are you supposed to keep someone safe from themselves?

“Want to talk about it?” Picani asks suddenly, and Virgil jerks his head up, looking over at the kind doctor.

“Ah...no, I just...I worry about Dee, that’s all.”

“Mood,” Remy replies softly, and Logan bats them gently, rolling his eyes.

“Not the time for... _slang_ ,” he says, and Remy chuckles.

Virgil admired Remy, always able to keep things light, whilst Virgil could turn a lopsided pancake into a panic attack given two minutes alone.

“It’s natural to be worried,” Picani says soothingly, “he’s going to be ok though. He asked for help, that’s a sign he wants to get better.”

Virgil smiles weakly, nodding slowly. “You’re right.” He repeats it internally, trying to reassure himself.

The doctor returns, looking a bit grim, but not badly enough to spark any major panic.

“What’s the consensus?” asks Picani, as Virgil wakes up Roman and Patton, who are listening intently almost immediately.

“He says he tried to kill himself, and we’ve had to give him stitches. We recommend he stay in overnight, at least so we can make sure he’s not at risk. He doesn’t seem to be currently, but we should still check.”

“He tried to _what?_ ” Patton demands, standing up suddenly.

“He’s in perfectly stable condition, and he seems to be...of a more stable mindset,” the doctor reassures them, “we’ll allow one of you to stay with him tonight, just be gentle with him.”

Virgil wants to volunteer to stay, but he looks at Logan’s face and sighs internally. Logan was calmer, knew how to keep people thinking straight, how to keep a crisis under control. Virgil would fight the world for Deceit, he knew that for a fact, but Logan was more equipped for fighting Deceit’s mental illness, and that’s what was needed right now.

“Picani, mind if we take it from here?” Remy asks, “only...”

“I understand,” Picani says, smiling, “I’ll just do the paperwork and medical stuff. You lot go check in on him.”

Virgil is thankful that there’s an adult that he can rely on. Which is silly, because at twenty one _Virgil_ was an adult. Heck, Deceit was an adult. _Remy_ was an adult, and _that_ was a disturbing thought.

They enter the ward, making their way over to Deceit. It’s a remarkably empty ward, mostly reserved for people at risk due to mental health, but nobody’s complaining. Deceit is curled up with his arms under the blanket, looking sleepy, so tired he can barely lift his head to look at them when they gather around.

“Don’t worry,” Patton says softly, sitting on the floor next to him, smiling, “you just rest now. It’s gonna be ok.”

“I’m sorry,” Deceit whispers, voice hoarse and barely audible.

“It’s ok,” Remy insists, “we knew you had issues when we signed up to be your friend-”

“Remy!” Virgil and Patton hiss at once, but Deceit laughs weakly, shuddering for a moment before curling up tighter and mumbling about being cold.

“Slimy snake,” Roman teases playfully, “watch out, your fangs will show if you get any more cold blooded.”

He takes off his jacket and places it over Deceit as he says it, whilst Logan and Remy shuffle closer to him, as if their warmth might transfer to Deceit via osmosis or something. Deceit yawns, snuggles into the heat and comfort, and closes his eyes slowly.

“Still sorry,” he mumbles, “I...never wanted to hurt you all...”

“Just rest,” Logan tells him, “it’s going to be ok.”

Deceit sniffs, but is too tired to hold out, instead opting to apologise again before dropping asleep.

 

“ _Are you happy now?”_

_It has to be a dream, he knows. It’s too dark to be a flashback, too hazy and unfamiliar for any specific memory. And as the world comes into view, he realises even further it’s a dream, because he’s never been in court before._

_He looks around at rows of unfamiliar faces, before noticing that he’s the defendant, and the lawyer for the prosecuting side is his ex. He groans aloud at how obvious the nightmare is making itself._

“ _I said, are you happy now?”_

_He looks up at his ex, who sits on the table in front of him smirking down._

“ _You aren’t real,” he hisses, “you’re just a dream, go away.”_

“ _Are you happy that you’ve hurt them all?”_

“ _When I wake up-”_

“ _You think they liked hearing you tried to kill yourself?”_

“ _-you’ll be gone.”_

_His ex leans in and smirks, face dark, smirk too wide to be human. “They’re just sad that you didn’t succeed.”_

“ _That’s a lie!”_

_He stands up, pulling himself to his full height, still feeling small. “That’s a lie, they want me alive! They do!”_

“ _You should finish the job, coward,” the words start to echo, blurring the line between a memory and a dream, “otherwise I’ll just have to finish the job.”_

“ _You’re just a dream!” Deceit screams, “you’re just a dream! You can’t hurt me!”_

“ _I call Logan to the witness stand~”_

 

Deceit jerks awake crying and shaking, body twitching as he sobs helplessly, nightmare burned into his retinas even as he tries to ground himself.

“Deceit?”

“It’s not fair!” he turns to the speaker, Logan, “it’s not fair! I can’t escape it when I’m awake, I can’t escape it when I’m asleep, and I can’t even _die_ without changing my mind!”

Logan hesitates, and Deceit curses himself as he realises he’s started talking about his suicidal urges, which he had wanted to keep from his friends for as long as possible. _I can’t even do that right, can I? I’m such a fucking mess._

Logan sits by him, handing him his familiar snake plush that Picani once gave him, and smiles slightly.

“Talk to me.”

“Where are the others?”

“Home. They’ll be back in the morning. Now don’t change the topic. Talk to me. Properly.”

Deceit hesitates, curling up tighter and hugging the snake. “What am I meant to say, Lo?”

Logan hums, thinking for a moment. “Well, what was your nightmare about?”

“...My ex. Only...I was the defendant in a court case...and...he kept asking me if I was happy...and I’m not, of course I’m not! I...I hurt you all, and then I tried to die and I hurt you all even more, and I wanted to die but I never wanted to hurt you!”

“Why did you want to die?” Logan asks softly, and Deceit finds himself wishing Logan would just hold him, pull him close and stroke his hair and squeeze his hand and just _touch_ him.

“I...I’m just tired, Lo,” he whispers, “...every day it’s the same shit...every day is like I’m still back there with him. And I guess I just...gave up on feeling any different.”

There’s silence, and Deceit turns, clinging onto Logan, snake plush still in one hand as he grips tightly, burying his head into his chest. He sighs with relief when Logan wraps his arms around him just as tightly, gently guiding his spinning head back to earth.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Deceit repeats, “I’m sorry, Lo...I’m so sorry...”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Logan whispers, “I mean...you _did_ , but...it’s...not the hurt you say sorry for. It hurts seeing you like this, but if this is how you are, then this is how I’ll take you. I want you however you are, so long as you’re alive.”

“I’m a mess,” Deceit sniffs, “I’m a mess and I screwed up and you lot should _hate_ me.”

“Well, we don’t,” Logan huffs slightly, “you’re going to just have to deal with it.”

“You’re all idiots.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replies, calm but a bit irked, “I have a very high IQ, you can’t make me part of the collective there.”

Logan runs a hand through Deceit’s hair, continuing to explain why he can’t be called an idiot, and Deceit smiles, just a little, listening to him.

“-And finally, I got a 4.0 last semester, _so_ -”

“You’re such a nerd,” Deceit mumbles, interrupting, “I love you for it.”

Logan feels his face heat up, and he feels thankful that Deceit can’t see him, instead opting to reply with “I love you too”, stroking his hair still.

“...Logan,” Deceit says carefully after a few moments, “...do you think...Picani will let me go back to my sessions with him? There’s...things I want to talk to him about...”

“Dee, he stayed here until Virgil signed a form saying he’d call if anything about your condition changed. He’ll let you have as many sessions as you want and need, don’t worry.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Deceit relaxes visibly, slumping into Logan’s hold, letting the scarred side of his face rest on him, feeling secure in the knowledge that his friends accepted him, despite his flaws, despite his scarring, despite the mess he called his mental state. He had people who loved him, who he could let hold him and run their fingers through his hair, who made him feel like even if the next day hurt the same as today, he could face it.

He could do one more tomorrow.

“...Logan, can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

 

_Sometimes Deceit simply didn’t know how to explain his fears. He could never pinpoint things that made him so certain his lover would some day kill him if he stayed. He could never remember the things that made him worry for the safety of his loved ones. He could try to bring it up, but his mind blanked, a plain white wall where previously there was only chaos._

“ _We all have difficulties with partners,” the school counsellor had told him, not looking very sympathetic, “part of growing up is learning to deal with those difficulties. Try talking to him.”_

_Deceit had kept his expression neutral, hadn’t even replied, just got up and left, shutting the door slowly but not quietly. Adults were useless, his peers were useless, nobody could help, nobody was willing to try. His boyfriend wanted him to move out in the coming year, and if there was anything he knew, it was that it could only be the death of him._

“ _So what did you talk about?”_

_The tone was accusatory, almost a growl, bitter and low. There was a hand taking his, gripping so tight Deceit could feel his bones begin to hurt. He wanted to scream, call for help, make someone see just how scared he was. But every word got caught in his throat, jaw tensing up, body falling weak to the stare of his dear lover._

“ _Nothing,” he lied, “just...just university stuff, you know?”_

“ _I know you’re lying,” his boyfriend replied, “don’t lie to me, Dee, you know how much I hate liars.”_

_Deceit knew full well, and so every time he lied he just got better. Every time he smiled when a hand got too close to his skin for comfort, every time he carefully applied make up to a bruise, every time he told someone a scratch or cut was caused by a cat or himself. Every time someone called his relationship “relationship goals”, or told him how lucky he was._

_He just smiled back, nodded along, and let the anger and pain fester underneath his skin, boiling his blood and tearing at his mind._

“ _I love you so much,” his boyfriend would murmur, “tell me you love me too...”_

_And Deceit wished every time that he could lie, wished he really didn’t love the person pinning him down with a bruising grip,. That he didn’t care for the person who snarled insults in between kisses. That he didn’t **want** the person threatening to kill him and his family._

_But he did._

“ _I love you too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is the song “Without You” by Ashes Remain. I highly recommend it, it helped me write this a lot. (Writing out your trauma is not easy, even if you use fictional characters to do it with.) Also, it’s ok to have feelings for your abuser. I’m aromantic but I still loved mine. They were my closest friend, they knew everything about me, and if I hadn’t feared so much for the safety of my family I probably would have kept with them, just for the sake of that love. It’s normal, and it’s normal to have mixed feelings about this, and spend time getting over those feelings.


	11. According To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit is home from hospital, and is willing to try reach out for support. The others are thrilled, and with their help he starts to question some of his negative self image, and the words his ex used to say to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Abuse, abuse description, mention of suicide attempt, self harm, rape, gaslighting, sleeping difficulties, difficulty phrasing emotions, coercive control, non-con in front of others, flashbacks, fear of failure, mentions of violence, non-consensual acts whilst asleep, so much manipulation, sleep deprivation, blood, scabs, negative self-talk, and I think that's it...
> 
> IMPORTANT: Somewhat explicit descriptions of rape are in this chapter - if this is too much, skip the parts in italics. Stay safe guys, and find yourself a guy (or gal or non binary pal) who does the exact opposite of Dee's ex. Xx

Deceit was in hospital for four more nights, each night with a different friend staying by his side. Once certain he wouldn’t try to kill himself, or badly injure himself, he was let out, a nervous mess accompanied by his friends back home.

“Don’t worry, we won’t leave you alone,” Virgil reassures him with a smile, “and we have cuddly animals and blankets and nice food waiting for you.”

“We got ice cream,” Roman clarifies, “a variety as well, with sprinkles in case you want sprinkles, but if you don’t then that’s ok as well!”

Deceit chuckles slightly, letting them guide him into their home and onto a sofa, nobody really willing to leave, despite at least half of them having their own responsibilities calling them.

“Roman and I can look after him,” Remy says seriously, “you lot go, like...chill or whatever.”

“I’m not going to chill doing my essay,” mutters Virgil, but he reluctantly agrees, kissing Roman goodbye before grabbing his bag and heading out.

“Thanks for this,” Deceit mumbles to Remy and Roman, “I...I’m sorry you have to do this...”

“No way, gurl,” Remy cuts in quickly, “no apologising, it’s illegal.”

Deceit wants to sigh, turn away and ignore the enby, but his heart aches from loneliness and he doesn’t want to hurt his friends.

“Can we...can we cuddle, then?” he asks, “I mean...um, if you two are going to be here...”

Remy smiles, and Roman presses a kiss to Deceit’s hand gently.

“Of course we can. You know us, we love cuddles.”

 

_Deceit came to fear the night, the times between eleven at night and two in the morning the most painful times. He’d find himself practically waiting to be hit or raped. Heck, he was acknowledging it as rape these days, which made him want to throw up. How long had he tried to convince himself it was all consensual?_

“ _Just touch me already,” his lover hissed, moving his hands, “c’mon, at least act like you’re into it.”_

_He wasn’t into it, he’d tried to explain that he didn’t want this, but every time he was ignored, a roll of the eyes telling him it didn’t matter, or a hiss of disapproval followed up by attempts to coax him into the act. He’d long since realised it didn’t matter what he said or did._

_He didn’t even bother trying to point out when it hurt, when his lovers fingernails were too long and dug into him painfully, when it was rougher than he liked, when it was clear his boyfriend didn’t care if Deceit got off or not._

“ _Like that, babe?” he was asked, as he winced and tried not to cry, “did I do a good job?”_

_It was an insulting question, in his eyes, because even if he was honest nothing good would happen, nothing would change. At worst he’d get into worse trouble._

_So instead he lied, and dealt with the consequences of unprepared sex later._

“ _It was great. I loved it.”_

_If what he said no longer mattered then he might as well try lessen the damage by saying what his boyfriend wanted to hear._

 

“I’m having difficulty sleeping,” Deceit tells Picani honestly, fiddling with his hands and staring down at the floor, unwilling to make eye contact, “I...I’ve been having problems sleeping for...quite a while, to be honest.”

“What makes sleeping difficult, would you say?” Picani asks, making a quick note and smiling warmly.

“I guess...well...” Deceit breathes deeply, trying to word it, trying to work out how to tell people about it all. He’d tried so hard to keep it in, keep it a secret, and he was worried that if he said any more than he’d said in the past then somehow something _bad_ happen. Like he’d be judged or his ex would find out, or just... _something_.

“Take your time,” Picani reassures him, smiling gently, “it’ll be ok.”

Virgil would have said “rip it off like a band-aid”, but Picani’s phrasing was a lot more gentle.

Nonetheless…

“I...between eleven at night to two in the morning...I, I can’t sleep,” confesses Deceit, “I just...I struggle to sleep before eleven, and then I just _can’t_ , so I don’t get to sleep until after two and just...”

He breathes deeply before groaning, not at all sure how to explain it all without feeling like shit.

“I guess...look, my ex favoured those hours for hurting me because everyone else was asleep,” he explains, shaking as he does, “I didn’t want to wake anyone up, a-and there was no other way for people to do anything, I guess...I mean, I assume that’s why...”

He breathes in sharply to avoid a sob, and Picani leans in with concern, handing him tissues.

“Take your time,” he repeats, “there’s no judgement here.”

And Deceit breaks into tears, and starts to blurt out all the ways his lover hurt him at night, all the ways he tried to stop it, and all the ways he was made to give in.

“Are you sure you don’t want to report this?” Picani asks seriously afterwards.

“No...I...I ended up consenting, after all...in the end I always gave consent...towards the end of our relationship, at least...I feel dirty just calling it rape...”

“Coercive control is most definitely rape,” Picani assures him firmly, “and the times before that sound like flat out...well, forced.”

He looks into Deceit’s eyes as he tells him for certain that what happened wasn’t right, that he deserved better than that.

And for a moment, just a moment, Deceit believes him.

 

_Deceit learned to “tune out”, so to speak, when his boyfriends hands started to roam, or at least when they were around others, be it family, his boyfriends friends or the general public. He was pretty sure it must have been some sort of kink, because he couldn’t figure out why else it kept happening. And he didn’t want to acknowledge that there may be an element of control in it._

_It embarrassed him most when around his lover’s friends, because it became a lot less subtle, and for someone who didn’t want Deceit to even look at other men, he was strangely unconcerned with his friends seeing him bite and kiss Dee’s neck._

“ _You guys really get into it, huh?” One of them asked, and Deceit would never dignify that with an answer, cheeks heating up at being seen being groped. In the past he would have asked his boyfriend to stop it, but he knew what would happen._

“ _He’s just a slut,” his boyfriend “teased”._

“ _I’m not.”_

_And just like clockwork the room went silent, one of the friends laughed, and his boyfriend’s grip got stronger, and he whimpered as the hand down his pants squeezed too tightly, pain being the only clear intention._

“ _Maybe he’d rather do this sort of stuff at home,” someone suggested, “you know we’re cool with, well, whatever, but not everybody’s into that stuff, you know?”_

_Deceit could never help but notice how quickly the friend fell silent again, and how they were never around when Deceit was._

 

“I’m home,” calls Deceit as he walks in, tired and worn out after a long session with Picani and a test, “anyone here?”

He looks around and pauses, seeing Logan curled up on the sofa, holding his head. Getting closer he realises Logan is crying, which disturbs him more than a little. Logan jerks his head up, realising Deceit is close, and quickly wipes his eyes, still shiny and wet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you-”

“Don’t be, I...I was just worried about you...may I...try help?”

Logan sniffs, clearly thinking it through, more slowly than usual, but then he nods slightly. “I warn you, though,” he mumbles, “it’s stupid...”

“It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you...so are...you ok?” Deceit asks quietly, sitting beside Logan, thoughts racing a mile a minute as he tries to determine how best to help his friend. It’s a stupid opener, but better than nothing, he reasons.

Logan sniffs slightly, and shakes his head slowly, not daring to look up at Deceit. “I’m sorry, I know you have enough on your plate-”

“Hey, no. You...I mean, I don’t...I mean...” Deceit bites his lip, thinks for a moment then continues. “I want to support you, just as you’ve supported me. So...please don’t apologise. Just talk to me.”

Logan smiles weakly, placing a hand on Deceit’s gently. “Thanks. I...it’s silly...I’m failing a class...and I’ve been told I’m at risk of failing the exams at this rate...I’ve just never failed before, and I don’t know how to handle it...”

Deceit could understand that. Sure, he himself had his fair share of failures, but he could see that if, like Logan, you’d always been a top grade student, then failing would be...almost incomprehensible. He shuffles closer, holds his hand and wraps an arm around him, aiming for as much closeness as he could give. Logan tenses for barely a moment before turning into him, burying himself against him.

“I...think it’s good to experience failure,” he says slowly, “I mean...uh...I’m sorry, would you rather I just listen, or-?”

“No, it’s ok,” Logan reassures him, sniffing slightly, “I’m just scared to experience it...”

“I...understand that,” admits Deceit slowly, “but we’ll all be there for you if you fail. We won’t judge you for it, and if you really want you could probably switch classes.”

“I guess so...thank you, Dee,” whispers Logan, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem...want me to hold you?” Deceit asks, a little nervous that Logan would suddenly and inexplicably demand more, but shaking away the thoughts because Logan _was not like that_ , trauma be damned.

“I’d like that,” Logan replies, and manages to get even closer, clinging onto him and closing his eyes, head resting on Deceit’s chest, the sound of Dee’s heartbeat in his ear.

He falls asleep like that, and Deceit has no way to move without waking him up, so, of course, he just stays put, playing with Logan’s hair and hugging him close. It’s fully enjoyable all the way up until Roman and Virgil come in, at which point Roman loudly starts gushing over how “cute” it is, and Virgil starts taking pictures.

“Fuck you both,” hisses Deceit, going red, “I swear to god, if you wake him up I will _personally_ show you where-”

“What have we said about threats?” Patton asks as he walks in, followed closely by Remy, who comments the irony in Patton saying that.

“Ya know, cause you punched-”

“We agreed not to mention that!”

Deceit raises an eyebrow. Patton punching someone was highly unlikely, and if he didn’t know Remy better he’d say the enby was lying.

He feels Logan stir and looks down as he yawns, looking up at Deceit.

“Heard people talking...”

“Go back to sleep, it was just the others being idiots again.”

“Oh ok.”

And Logan drifts back to sleep just as Roman starts to make Offended Princey NoisesTM.

 

_Deceit knew better than to fall asleep against his boyfriend. He did, but he was so tired. His boyfriend had kept him awake nearly two days, by forcing Deceit to stay awake until he fell asleep, and then Deceit was too scared to sleep in case he woke up after his lover. It was messed up, and he knew it._

_But it didn’t change how tired he was right then, and he could feel his body collapse onto his lovers chest, head against him gently. It should have been comforting, and it was comfortable...but not comforting, much to his unhappiness._

_He woke up to kisses on his neck and hands on his thighs, and if he wasn’t afraid of being seen, his parents only in the other room, he was sure he’d have screamed._

“ _Shh, be quiet,” his lover whispered, “it’s one in the morning, you wouldn’t want anyone waking up, would you?”_

_Deceit tried not to sob, instead forcing a smile as his boyfriend lowered his hand, biting into his neck none too gently._

“ _R-Right...”_

_He breathed deeply, trying to act like he was into it, knowing full well it would only get worse if he didn’t. He heard his boyfriend sigh, muttering that Deceit wasn’t hard yet, and why did he have to make things so difficult?_

“ _I...I’m sorry,” Deceit mumbled, and winced when the attention instead turned to behind him, two fingers pushing in roughly, and he almost cried out._

“ _Yeah, yeah...we all know you have trouble getting it up when I want it up...you’re so selfish.”_

“ _I...” Now or never, he reasoned, maybe he could soften the blow. “I want to stop here...please, may I just get you off instead?”_

_He started to shake when he felt a hard thrust of his lover’s fingers._

“ _Do you have to ruin this every time? You always have to argue or make a fuss, or change your mind. It’s really fucking annoying,” his boyfriend spat, removing his fingers, “all you have to do is lie still whilst I fuck you, ok? Even you can do that!”_

_Deceit spent the time trying not to cry, trying to apologise for not being into it, trying to ignore how tired it was making him after barely any sleep._

“ _You knew we were doing this,” his boyfriend told him, “why did you choose to sleep instead?”_

_And afterwards his boyfriend kissed him, and with a somehow hesitant smile once again whispered “you know I’d never make you do anything, right?”_

_Deceit cried when his boyfriend fell asleep that night._

 

Deceit curls in on himself, the familiar images flashing before his eyes, not enough to be a flashback, not enough to drive him off the edge, but enough to keep him _on_ the edge, unsure and confused, willing himself into the present with every breath.

It just _hurt_ , and his instinct was to get out the house, leave and not come back until he felt safe again. He glances at the time, and feels a stab of hurt at realising he still had another two hours to go. He could leave, definitely, but Logan was still awake, and if he were out for that long then Logan would probably wake up the others, courtesy of his “safety plan”.

He digs his fingernails into scabs, breathing slowly and trying to think of a plan. He just had to get through the night, after all.

_Right, and then tomorrow night, and the night after that, and so fucking on._

He hisses at himself, accidentally breaking the scab, swearing as blood starts flowing again.

_See? He was right, we’re a fucking mess. Now they’re going to see blood and get concerned, and it’s all your fault._

The voice was getting louder, the images more vibrant, and he feels himself fade in and out of reality as he tries to stop the bleeding. His heart begins to race, hard and loud in his chest, and he panics at the looming flashback, suddenly shrieking and slapping something off his desk in an attempt to refocus himself.

“Ah shit,” he mutters, “I bet I woke someone up...”

He hears a knock at the door and curses before going over and opening it slowly. It’s Logan, looking concerned.

“Are you ok?” Logan asks, “I heard an alarming noise.”

“I, uh...” _Picani would tell us to reach out_. “...I guess...I’m not feeling...uh...”

He trails off, and Logan observes him for a moment before motioning to his own room.

“Want to come in to mine for a bit? Talk me through it.”

Deceit hesitates, weighing up his options. Sure, he could agree, but a part of him still feared that Logan would start to get touchy or something with him. And then that made him feel bad, and the whole thing could easily snowball.

On the other hand, he didn’t feel safe at this time of night, and he had already proved that he handled self isolation pretty badly. And it wasn’t like Logan could ever do anything that hadn’t already happened, even _if_ he was that way inclined. Which he _wasn’t_.

“...Yes, please.”

And Logan smiles, walking back into his room, shortly followed by Deceit, who shuts his own door fully whilst keeping Logan’s open, an escape route that his head refused to let go of. Logan either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind, instead sitting on a desk chair and smiling.

“So, what’s been bothering you?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question. Dee presses his sleeve to the wound, trying to hide the bleeding, apparently unsuccessfully, because almost immediately Logan takes out a bandage and offers to help. So Dee offers his arm hesitantly, and starts speaking whilst Logan bandages him.

“I...honestly, I was just...feeling bad,” admits Deceit, fiddling with his other sleeve, “and...I guess it would be nice for...I don’t know...some sort of support, I guess...”

“What do you need?” Logan asks gently, and Deceit feels a pang of regret for not having asked that phrase when Logan needed help.

_What do you need?_ He internally shudders, remembering all the answers he’d received when he’d asked his ex that question, and reconsiders his regret. Logan was lovely, they all were, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to risk receiving the same answers.

“I...I’m sorry, it’s stupid,” he mumbles, pulling his freshly bandaged arm away, and backs off to return to his room.

“It’s not stupid,” Logan says quickly, reaching out towards Deceit, hesitating a little, “if it were stupid I wouldn’t have asked about it.”

Deceit turns back to Logan, chewing on his lip and trying to think. He was still against talking to the others about it. It still felt ridiculous to ask another for help, and his period of self-isolation certainly hadn’t helped those thoughts.

“I just...I...Logan, am I...” _A waste of space, useless,_ _boring,_ _a pain,_ _pathetic,_ _worthless,_ _stupid,_ _ugly,_ _a mess,_ _an airhead,_ _better_ _off on all fours?_ “...I just need to know...if I’m...better than I think I am.”

Logan frowns, and seems to think about it, making Deceit’s anxiety spike.

“Well, what do you think of yourself?” he asks, “and I’ll tell you if you’re better than that.”

Deceit doesn’t reply for a moment, afraid that he’d be honest about his feelings and that then Logan would agree. Logan was logical, if he agreed then Deceit’s personal feelings _had_ to be right, or at least have a logical basis for them.

“...I’m just not... _deserving_ ,” he says, slowly, voice wobbling a little.

“Of what?”

“... _Anything_.”

“Well, in that case you’re blatantly incorrect,” Logan says, shaking his head, “you are deserving of so many great things, Dee, and every lesser thing too.”

Deceit smiles weakly, and makes a mental note of the words, deciding to cling to them at every given opportunity.

“I just don’t feel it,” he admits, “Picani says I should work on challenging my beliefs about myself...but it’s hard...I don’t feel like I should, like I’m worth it...and I’m so thankful you think I...I’m deserving, but I just...I’m struggling to believe it about myself, that’s all...”

“That’s ok,” Logan tells him, “you’re not expected to be ok about yourself. You’ve been through a lot, and you’ve been struggling. You’re allowed to feel bad, you’re allowed to...feel bad about yourself. We’re just...we just don’t see it that way.”

He presses a kiss to Deceit’s forehead gently.

“You’re very precious to us,” he says seriously, voice so quiet Deceit can barely hear him, “please never forget that.”

 

“ _You wouldn’t leave me anyways,” his boyfriend said, voice bitter and negative, sending dirty looks in Deceit’s direction, “nobody else could love you.”_

“ _That’s hurtful,” Deceit tried to argue, unable to deny how awful his boyfriends words made him feel, “it’s not my fault you failed maths, why are you taking it out on me?”  
It was bold, too bold, and in years, months, weeks to come he’d learn better, but he still said it, fed up and hurt. He didn’t like being picked on for no reason, especially by his lover. They’d been dating barely a month, and he simply didn’t spot the signals. He barely even remembered the conversation now, if at all._

_His boyfriend sighed, sitting up and turning to Deceit, still glaring at him a bit but softening his voice. “I’m sorry, it’s just...I meant, nobody else could love you as much as I do, you know? I just love you so much.”_

_An apology, something that would come increasingly rare, and a backhanded...compliment? Deceit didn’t see it for what it was, and instead smiles, almost shyly._

“ _You’re so cute...I love you too.”_

_The phrase “nobody else could love you” came up often as their relationship progressed, whether spat out in jealousy if Deceit spoke to someone else, or muttered as pillow talk as if it were something he’d enjoy hearing, or snarled as a threat._

“ _You really think anybody could love you like I do?”_

 

In the present he breathes deeply, and for a moment, just a moment, his answer is _yes_.


	12. I Believe In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is a fire deep within you, that burns up high and threatens to snuff itself out with every second you breathe. Deceit feels it burn within him whilst his friends are sure to show how proud they are of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Abuse, descriptions of abuse, implied rape, self harm, panic attacks, flashbacks, implied parental conflict...uh...hey, this is a tame chapter!  
> Mostly fluff, but also refers back to some things I implied in the first couple chapters.

“What are you going to do after graduation?” Roman asks Deceit one day in November, and Dee realises he has no idea.

“I’m hoping to be a librarian,” Virgil told him when he asked, “I mean...it’s quiet, it’s a decently respected job, and I’ve always preferred books to people anyways. And in June I can rearrange the library so that all the gayest books are on show.”

Next Dee had asked Patton, who had very confidently declared he wanted to be a guidance counsellor in a high school, stating that Picani had helped inspire him, but that he’d always wanted to do something related to counselling or psychology.

Logan had stated he was looking for scholarships to continue his education.

“I want to learn as much as I can,” he’d explained, “but I can’t without scholarships, my family and I just can’t afford it.”

Remy had an internship at a local art gallery all set up, and was planning to become a full time artist eventually, so they were doing great for their future plans.

(Roman of course was happy to do anything so long as theatre was involved.)

“I don’t know what I want to do,” Deceit confesses to Picani, “and I feel like I’m running out of time. We graduate in June. That’s only seven months away!”

Picani smiles, internally sad that they’d be going. He liked the kids, and always found it hard to say goodbye. But he had to be there for them, so he quickly pushes away those feelings.

“You have plenty of time. Just focus on what you enjoy doing, and what you’d like to do.”

“I like to argue,” Deceit jokes, then sighs, “but no...I don’t know, it’d be nice to do something to help others...especially others like me, you know?”

Picani nods, agreeing that it was a good thing to want, but Deceit shuts off after that, politely and nervously asking if they could end their session there for today. He had a lot of work, and a lot of things to process and try to think about.

“Alright. But first, how’s the self harming going?”

Deceit bites his lip and looks down at his arms, debating on how honest to be. Picani just waits patiently, and finally Deceit rolls up his sleeves, showing that whilst most were healing, he had added to the patchwork of scars and scabs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Deceit, you never have to apologise for this,” Picani replies firmly, “and anybody who says you have to, or makes you feel like you should, needs to re-evaluate their own feelings.”

Deceit smiles weakly, and calls out to Remy that he’s finished, the enby peering in and waving.

“Hey Doc. Hey Dee, you wanna go slash my dad’s tyres-I mean, uh, do something that isn’t illegal?”

“Listen, if you say you’re going to commit a crime, I’m required to tell my superior,” Picani says seriously, then grins, “so we’ll just say you didn’t, alright?”

Deceit can’t help but smile as Remy laughs, fully certain that he has the world’s best counsellor.

“C’mon,” Remy says, waving goodbye, “let’s go break the law.”

 

_Deceit had overdosed on something three months into living with his boyfriend, which led to a lot of sickness and coming in and out of reality, blacking out for hours at a time. When he was aware of himself, of being conscious, it hit him that it was odd he wasn’t in hospital. He knew he and his boyfriend both had health insurance, so he wasn’t sure why he was still at home._

_He always faded back out before he could continue the thoughts though, and would fade back in occasionally to hear his boyfriend talking, though he could never work out what was being said. Once he came to and there was a hand on his scar, a pair of bright eyes looking into his._

_Eventually he came to fully, feeling like he’d been hit with a truck but remarkably ok. He’d thrown up almost immediately upon sitting up, and staggered as he went for the bathroom, but it wore off within a few days._

_Before that, though, his boyfriend saw him stand up, and looked over._

“ _Finally. Clean that up, would you? By the way, there’s leftovers in the fridge. Though with how much you slept, I doubt you need food. Not like you’ve done anything to need it.”_

_Deceit had been dazed, a bit unsure of what was going on, but he knew one thing for certain. He’d known all along, but it hit him like the previous metaphorical truck._

_His boyfriend didn’t care if he lived or died._

 

Patton walks in whilst Deceit has a knife in his arm, and the two freeze simultaneously, locking eyes, neither sure of what to do, neither willing to move. Deceit swears he locked the bathroom door, and Patton swears he knocked, but clearly both are incorrect.

“...I’m sorry,” is the first thing that comes out of Dee’s mouth, taking the knife out quickly.

And Patton lunges at him, arms swinging around in a tight embrace.

Patton is not someone Dee would ever call “strong”, but he holds Deceit like their lives depended on it, warm and close, hands knotting in Deceit’s clothes, not caring that his own start to stain red.

“I’m sorry,” repeats Deceit, eyes starting to water.

“Don’t be,” Patton tells him, letting go slowly, “really, Dee. You never have to apologise to us for hurting.”

Deceit doesn’t know how to respond, but winces when he sees the stain across Patton’s white t shirt, something ironic in blood over the words “be happy”. Patton notices, and looks down, to which Deceit steps back quickly, the fear of being hit worse than the upset of ruining Patton’s shirt.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Patton’s voice falters for a moment, “dads can get anything off!”

“You’re not a dad,” they hear Logan point out, and Patton slams the door shut as he yells that he _could_ be a dad.

The slam of the door is too much, and Deceit feels himself fall into the past almost instantly, only vaguely hearing Patton yell for help before he’s gone.

 

_He jumped when his boyfriend entered their home, the door slamming shut behind him._

“ _What’s wrong-”_

“ _Oh my god I can’t do shit without you getting in my face, can I?” he snapped, glaring at Deceit venomously, “what do you want, hm? You sit there with your fancy education – may I point out that I’m the one who pays for us?”_

_Deceit wanted to point out that he wasn’t allowed a job, but he shrank back, hiding in the bedroom and letting his boyfriend calm down to some extent. There was so much noise, yelling and screaming, things being thrown around – certainly things that belonged to Deceit, that was for sure._

_Eventually it stopped, but he didn’t make eye contact with his lover when he came into the room, appearing calmer but not enough for Deceit to feel ok about the matter._

“ _Sorry about earlier, sweetie,” his lover said, kissing Deceit, “bad day at work. Now c’mon, let’s eat dinner together.”_

 

He comes to with thick, fresh bandages around his arm, tight against his arm and providing enough compression to keep him grounded in reality. He looks up and sees Logan and Patton have been joined by Roman, all three looking anxious and concerned for him.

“...I’m sorry-”

“Oh my god you’re awake! You had some kind of attack and passed out-”

“It’s called a flashback, Patton-”

“It could have been a panic attack-”

“It wasn’t though, I could tell-”

“Would you two shut up so we can tell Dee not to be sorry for _passing out?”_

Patton and Logan pause and turn to Deceit, who starts to tremble, trying to explain that he was aplogising for everything. For passing out, for his flashback, for hurting himself, for worrying them…

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Logan says seriously, “we were just concerned-”

“That...That’s _exactly it!”_ Deceit says it louder than intended, voice getting loud, nearly yelling as he forces himself to sit upright, pushing the others back, “ever since you became friends with me all I’ve done is make you worry! And I don’t understand why you want me to stick around! I don’t _do_ anything for you!”

Roman and Logan exchange glances whilst Patton bites his lip and tries to calm him down.

“Hey, it’s ok, you don’t need to-”

“Exactly! Always! Always it’s _you don’t need to!_ But I feel so...useless! I’m not being helpful, I’m just a thorn in your side that you can’t seem to get rid of!”

“Dee, we don’t want to get rid of you, and you’re far from useless,” Logan protests.

“Well then, what am I doing for you?” Deceit struggles not to let a growl slip into his voice, “look at me Logan! You lot have _literally patched me back up_. And what do I do? I whimper and then start yelling! Tell me this is what you want from me, go on!”

Something flickers in Logan’s eyes that he can’t pinpoint, and Roman interjects suddenly.

“Logan, Patton, could you go elsewhere for a moment? I want to talk to Deceit.”

The words make his blood run cold, but he can’t make himself speak to protest. Logan and Patton just nod, although they look unhappy about it, and get up, leaving him alone with Roman. Everything in him screams that he’s fucked up, that he’s in trouble and if he’d just be a normal person then it’d all be ok.

He braces himself for the worst, but instead Roman calmly rolls up his sleeve, and shows him a long thin silver scar down his forearm.

“This is what my ex did,” he says, voice steady, “I dated him for two months, and it’s why I once asked you about your bruises, do you remember?”

Deceit doesn’t know what to say, staring at a scar he’d seen so many times before, but without the context, then slowly nods.

“It’s not the same,” Roman clarifies, rolling his sleeves down, “I for one was lucky, I didn’t experience any major reaction. I just had a rough break up and moved on. I don’t have PTSD, I never did, and it’s never caused me any problems, except for a few months after the initial incident. I was kinda on edge, I guess.”

Deceit glances back through his memories, feeling pretty sure he should have picked up on this.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can think to say though.

“Don’t be. Like I said, I’m fine. My point is, I can see where you’re coming from. You went through _years_ of abuse, Dee. Your ex _melted your face_ -” Deceit winces at Roman’s lack of tact. “-and so we know that you’re going to have trouble with...well, everything.”

Deceit bites his lip, and dares to look at Roman’s face, the normally so dramatic and “extra” side looking so sincere, a hand over his heart.

“You deserve better,” Deceit argues weakly, “I don’t...I feel like you lot could do better. Surely you were happier without me?”

Roman shakes his head. “We were happy, yes, but you – and Remy, for that matter, since you introduced us to them – make us _complete._ We didn’t accept you into our group out of pity or because we _had_ to. We did so because we saw who you _could_ be, who you _are_ , and we...we knew you were more than deserving of us.”

Roman is slow, choosing his words more carefully than usual.

“But...” Deceit shakes his head, struggling to understand. “Ro, I was a complete asshole. And...and even now, I don’t feel like I...like I contribute anything...”

“Well, yeah,” Roman acknowledges, “you were an asshole. But like I said, we saw that you could be better. We saw you were hurting, and, well...uh, to quote Disney, _people make bad choices when they’re mad or scared or stressed_.”

Deceit snorts, but can’t help but smile, sniffing and breathing deeply.

“Besides, you contribute plenty,” Roman asserts, “you’re funny and you’re caring – like that time Virgil was freaking out and you got him calmed down again.”

“That’s different,” mumbles Deceit, “I knew Virgil for years, he hasn’t changed so much that I can’t calm him down the same way.”

“And?” Roman smiles, “you made the effort to remember what he needed. You keep us from doing stupid shit-”

“It’s called self preservation, and none of you have it.”

“-and you know long words that I don’t _really_ care about.”

“Self preservation means-”

“Oh god I see why the nerd likes you,” mutters Roman, and Deceit would be offended if he didn’t immediately follow it up with, “no, really. You’re an overly dramatic theatre nerd who dresses like a Disney Villian and always has something snarky but funny to say. You’re fun to be around, and I’m not just saying that because I too am an overly dramatic theatre nerd.”

Deceit smiles slightly, not picking up on Roman’s initial comment. “But what about how much trouble I’ve caused you guys?”

“I think you’ve caused more trouble to yourself than us,” Roman points out, “but even so, we don’t care. Listen, you weren’t in our group the time Patton made us drive all the way across nine states to fetch his teddy bear. Or the time Virgil stained our rented apartment wall with nail polish and superglue, and hence made us pay over five hundred dollars to the landlord. And you weren’t there that time Logan started an argument with a police officer that nearly got us all with criminal records-”

“Excuse me, but _he_ was the one in the wrong, and _furthermore-”_

Roman cuts in quickly. “Point is! Point is the nerd needs to stay quiet around law enforcement, and in comparison PTSD is _really_ not any trouble. You haven’t made me use up all my fuel, or all my savings, or got us in trouble with the law. So, uh, you’re good.”

“Can we come back in before you slander us further?” Logan asks, looking into the room.

Deceit finds himself smiling fully, and Logan almost melts at the warmth in it.

“So...I’m really not...a pain?” he asks, hesitantly, as Logan and Patton come in.

“Not at all, kiddo,” Patton says firmly.

“Absolutely not,” agrees Logan.

“Nope!”

Deceit feels something flutter in his chest, something warm filling his lungs, something hopeful working its way up inside him.

“Thank you.”

 

_Deceit knew his boyfriend didn’t think much of him. It wasn’t exactly a secret, after all. Discussions of his future plans were cut short, talk of education was deemed “bragging”, and his boyfriend felt sex was a better use of Deceit’s time than university work._

“ _Please, I need to get this in,” Deceit protested, tired and irritable, “we can have sex after, I just need to finish my work.”_

“ _Why?” his boyfriend asked, looking more than a bit put out, “Dee, you’re going to fail anways, just give up already.”_

“ _Why do you assume I’ll fail?” snapped Deceit, turning around to glare, running on too little sleep to deal with this._

“ _Watch your fucking tone. I assume because you’re not as clever as you used to be,” his boyfriend made no attempts to hold back, and didn’t flinch when Deceit starts to tear up, “come on, I don’t expect anything from you, just come into bed with me. Or, I suppose we could do it elsewhere if you want to shake things up...”_

“ _I want to-”_

“ _Shush, just do what I say...”_

_He felt the sting of hair being pulled and let himself go, too tired and ready to give up. So instead he groaned, let himself be moved against the wall, and let himself go limp._

 

“Hey, they said you had a bit of a moment earlier.”

Virgil doesn’t bother to  knock, because the door is open,  but Deceit still jumps, turning around  to see the emo smiling at him from the doorway.

“I...yeah, I guess I wasn’t feeling too great,” he admits, unsure of how much he should be telling Virgil about the incident.

Virgil walks over and sits on his bed. “Wanna talk to me about it?” he offers, “ or is this a, it happened, let’s ignore it, thing?”

Deceit bites his lip and fiddles  with  his sleeve, looking at the bandage before turning fully to Virgil. “Mostly it was that...I  don’t tend to feel good enough for you guys.  I feel like...well, I feel like  there’s some sort of  expectation that I missed...I mean...I hated life with my ex, but...I guess I always knew what was expected of me, to some extent...”

Virgil nods, not saying anything, just leaning forwards and listening.  So Deceit breathes deep and continues.

“I...I always knew what I was meant to do, what kept me safe...but now...now I don’t know what I’m meant to do, and that scares me, because...because my brain says that if I don’t know then I can’t truly be safe.”

V irgil nods, understanding his point. “That makes sense,” he agrees, and Dee sighs with relief.

“...I feel...better about it now,” Deceit says slowly, “I think...I mean, I do, I just...don’t trust my feelings to be consistent...”

“Mood.”

“You’re such meme trash, you and Remy both.”

V irgil smirks,  and  D eceit rolls his eyes before smiling softly.

“I appreciate you coming here,” he says quietly, “I...I was afraid we’d never be friends again, you know?”

T he words are raw, like a bare wound  open to display,  so quiet, so timid, that if Virgil had heard them  barely two years ago he would have never believed they came from Deceit.

“I do...I’m glad we are, though,” he says, smiling, “...you’ve come a long way though, you know?”

Deceit blinks, and Virgil continues.

“I mean...it’s been like, two years or some shit since you left the guy, right?”

“Three.”

“Three, still...you’ve come so far in that time, Dee. I’m really proud of you.”

Deceit feels the warmth from earlier threaten to burst from his chest,  heart racing from something other than fear,  and  Virgil can’t help but see it on his face.

“I...I’m proud of you as well, Virge,” Deceit whispers, and then he’s crying, smiling wide as the warmth seems to burst out, so happy and so content in a way that feels sustainable.

V irgil pulls him close, and he hugs him tightly,  something painful ebbing away into  something new and fresh, and he doesn’t have a name for it, but he knows he  _likes_ it.  His arms ache and his heart is sore and  his brain is fuzzy, but  he’s  ok, and that’s good enough for now.

 

H e walks into Picani’s office confidently three days later, sits down and says firmly, “I know what I want to do when I leave uni.”


	13. Get Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit likes Logan, Logan likes Deceit, Virgil is comforting, and Patton and Roman are off preparing for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Abuse, description of abuse, sexual assault, self harm, self harm mentions, implied parental conflict, coercive control, mention of doctor types. ...I feel like this one is kinda tame again. Well, we did have the peak...

“I want to be a lawyer,” Deceit told Picani confidently, “I want to go to law school, and I want to specialise in cases of abuse, as the prosecutor.”

Picani had half beamed, excited for Deceit’s decision, and spent the time explaining what Deceit needed to do to achieve this. And it was a lot, no doubt. Mostly Deceit just needed to do the LSATs and actually apply, but he didn’t like exams, and he had no idea where to start.

“Logan, Virgil, you two are clever,” he ends up saying one night whilst Patton and Roman were out, “I need help. I want to do the LSATs but I have no idea where to start.”

Going to them turned out to be a good choice. They were immediately thrilled for him, encouraging and offering their support. Virgil offers to come up with a revision timetable, and Logan offers to help with the revising itself. Deceit can’t help but smile, feeling the love loud and clear.

“Deceit’s going to go to law school,” Virgil tells the others proudly, “Dee, have you told your parents?”

Deceit looks away. He hadn’t had contact with his parents since the holidays. His parents loved him dearly, he knew, but he had told them he wanted space and they had respected that almost too well. And with everything that had happened...well, he just didn’t want to tell them. They knew nothing about his health, other than he was struggling mentally. What if they asked why he wanted to be a lawyer? Why he knew what he wanted to specialise in?

“Uh, yeah,” he lies, turning it into a casual one, “I think they’re concerned about funds, but they’re being really supportive.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. _He_ was worried about funds, and he knew his parents _would_ be supportive. Virgil raises an eyebrow, but the rest of them buy it, Logan talking about scholarships on offer.

“I’ve applied to graduate school here,” he explains, “I’m thinking of going into medicine eventually, but I’m not ready to stop education yet.”

“Luckily for you, you’re clever enough to get the needed scholarships,” Roman teases, and Logan flushes slightly at the compliment.

D eceit remains quiet after that,  unsure of how to process support of his education.  He was just so used to being put down, told he wasn’t capable... it was a nice change, a pleasant feeling, and  he could feel something  burning inside from it, a good heat.  But  it was unfamiliar and scary,  almost enough to make him want to retreat into his room, under a blanket.

“You ok?” Patton asks, and Deceit smiles quickly.

“Yes,” he lies.

 

“ _You used to be clever,” his boyfriend told him simply, “you’re a bit of a ditz now.”_

_He stroked his hair as he continued, ignoring how Deceit started to curl in on himself, trying to ignore the words._

_His boyfriend hated being told he was wrong, so Deceit always stayed quiet, never daring to make corrections, even on stupid stuff._

“ _I’m actually African,” his boyfriend said once, and Deceit had snorted. His boyfriend was white as you could get, and more importantly his parents were both American._

“ _It’s true,” his boyfriend insisted, “I was born in Africa.”_

“ _You lived there for a month. And your parents are American.”_

“ _No, my mother was actually born in England!”_

“ _Nationality doesn’t work like that. You’re a citizen of America.”_

_His boyfriend started to bristle._

“ _I’m African!”_

“ _You really aren’t – look, your family is American by ethnicity-”_

_He should have known the slap was coming, but it still took him by surprise._

“ _Shut up! It’s bad enough when my parents correct me – you remind me of my parents, do you want that, huh?”_

_Deceit had clutched his cheek, and simply shook his head._

_After that he stayed quiet._

_And then he was called stupid for it._

 

“Are we all celebrating Christmas this year?” Patton asks on the first of December, eagerly, “I wanna decorate!”

“Padre, we already said yes,” Roman says, smiling despite it, “Virgil, can we put mistletoe up in our room again?”

Deceit looks at Virgil, smirking as he begins to get flustered.

“I- Sure!”

“How cute~” Deceit teases, and Virgil hits him with a pillow half heartedly, making him laugh.

“We should have mistletoe everywhere!” Patton suggests eagerly, “for forehead and cheek kisses! Logan, you agree with me, right?”

Logan coughs, clearing his throat and nodding. “Uh, yes, I suppose I do.”

And that was more or less how Deceit ended up buying mistletoe with Virgil, the two arguing over how much they needed, and getting increasingly irritated by the vendor trying to guess their relationship.

“Boyfriends?”

“Brothers!” snaps Virgil, “now stay out of this!”

It was stressful, but they ended up with armfuls of mistletoe, which was placed up around the dorm. And Roman takes advantage of it to offer kisses to Virgil repeatedly.

Virgil makes a show of complaining, but he always accepts them, eager and enthusiastic.

Deceit wonders if he’ll ever have that.

 

_Deceit had been trying to focus on his LSATs revision, and Logan was simply getting frustrated with him. He couldn’t understand the question, and Logan found it so easy._

“ _I just don’t get it!” he protested, and Logan sighed, rubbing his forehead._

“ _You’re probably just stressed over it,” he said simply, “you did this type fine last week. You need to relax.”_

_And then Logan leaned in, one hand on Deceit’s shoulder, the other on the scar on his head, gentle and soft, a smile on his face._

“ _A kiss might help.”_

_Deceit froze, but true to his word Logan only kissed him, and Deceit wanted to pull him closer, kiss him until his lips hurt._

_And then he woke up, face red from the embarrassment. Why did he have that dream?_

 

“You’re going home for Christmas, right?” Logan asks suddenly.

Deceit looks up from his LSATs work and nods. “Yeah...my parents called me, they were worried and...yeah...”

He looks away and sighs. “They don’t know anything that’s happened. Just that I’m not feeling so good. I don’t want to admit how...how things have been.”

The words feel bitter in his mouth, almost a burn, like ash and acid. He hates to admit it, hates that his parents, so loving, know nothing. Know nothing about the abuse, about the self harm, suicide attempt, his god damn PTSD.

Deceit starts to feel an itch on his arm, a crawling sensation that makes him crave his knife again, to split apart his skin and remove everything that hurts. But then-

Logan gently places a hand on his and smiles, small but genuine. “It’s going to be ok,” he promises.

Deceit focuses on the contact, on the softness of Logan’s palm, on the small rough parts of his fingers, from years of writing and scribbling down notes. The ridges against his own hand, small blunt nails and so, so warm. He wants to melt into the touch, and he doesn’t know why Logan’s touch feels _more_ than the others.

But he nods, focuses on it, and slowly feels the urge to hurt himself ebb away. Not gone, still there, the itch beneath his skin not leaving. But he doesn’t want to take a knife to it, not right now at least.

 

“ _I hurt myself,” he told his lover, eyes down and guilt in his stomach, “I...I’m sorry.”_

_His boyfriend frowned, and then there was anger, burning up inside._

“ _You what? Why the fuck would you do that?”_

_Deceit took a step back, regretting it all instantly._

“ _I...I just...I felt so-”_

“ _I told my parents you hadn’t done this in years, you know.”_

_Deceit didn’t understand why, or what it had to do with the situation._

“ _And now that’s a lie. You made me lie. Are you happy?”_

“ _I’m sorry – that’s not – I was just -”_

“ _This is why people call you Deceit. This is why people don’t fucking trust you.”_

_And Deceit burst into tears, collapsing on the spot and crying heavily._

_His boyfriend sighed after a few moments and crouched down, rubbing his back gently._

“ _I’m only angry because I love you.”_

_Deceit kept crying._

 

“Logan is gay, right?” Deceit asks Remy, and Remy raises an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“I...nothing.”

 

_Deceit’s family accepted him instantly when he came out._

“ _Dear,” his mother said, “we don’t care who you like, so long as they make you happy.”_

“ _I’m bisexual,” his father admitted, “I’d be a real hypocrite not to accept you. Also, you’d piss off my grandfather so-”_

“ _Larry, watch your language!”_

_Deceit had just laughed._

 

“I might go to med school,” Logan tells Deceit one revision session, “I’d love to be a doctor...”

“I think you’d make a good doctor,” Deceit says, smiling, “any idea what type?”

Logan thinks, leaning forwards on his arm, chin resting on his hand. His hair shines amber in the light, his eyes are a bright brown, the shade of autumn leaves. He’s beautiful.

“I think a rheumatologist. I’d like to help people with conditions like arthritis and lupus, you know? Or infectious diseases – that’d be fun...”

Deceit can’t help but smile wider as Logan talks about different types of doctors, what he’s interested in, the pros and cons...he wishes he could write it all down, remember as much as he can about everything Logan says.

“Well,” he says shyly, “you could study for the MCATs whilst I do the LSATs?”

Logan beams, and Deceit feels himself melt.

“I’d like that.”

(Later Deceit is forced to admit to himself that _maybe_ he had a crush on Logan.)

 

“ _I don’t know what I want to do after university,” Deceit told his boyfriend hesitantly, “do you...do you have any ideas?”_

_His boyfriend barely looked up from doing his make up for the day – Deceit felt jealous, wanting to wear it too, but his boyfriend insisted he didn’t._

“ _Do whatever,” he said, but his tone was harsh, suspicious, “just don’t expect to earn as much as me. You’ll have student debts to pay off, and your degree is going to be useless.”_

_Deceit recoiled. “What? Why?”_

_His boyfriend rolled his eyes and turned to him. “The only thing more pathetic than a philosophy major is an art major.”_

 

The group did Secret Santa instead of usual gift giving.  They had limited funds after having to buy textbooks that term,  so it made  financial sense. And it was fun,  as Patton pointed out, to randomly get a friend to buy for.

“Or make!” Patton had added.

Deceit picked out Virgil’s name, and in some way he was relieved.  Virgil deserved the best gift, and he was pretty sure he could do something.

H e didn’t like gifts, really.  He could sort of handle his  birthday, when his parents gave him gifts, but from friends...he just wasn’t sure.  He was too used to trying to handle his ex at Christmas and birthdays, the way gifts would be pretty awful, but any gift he gave would inevitably be  broken or ignored whilst he got  yelled at for it.

B ut he could give a gift to Virgil.  Maybe music.  Or clothing, he was pretty easy in clothing. No, he deserved...more.

D eceit sighs,  collapsing onto his bed as he thinks.

“What would Virgil like most...” he says softly.

A nd then he gets an idea.

“This is an awful idea,” he mutters as he sits up.

And then he starts it.

 

_Deceit liked teddy bears. And plush snakes, but he had so many teddy bears. Mostly given to him by his parents, but Virgil had given him plenty and he had bought some himself._

_They were a comfort, especially on bad days._

“ _You act like a kid. I’m not dating a kid, idiot.”_

_Deceit could only wince and nod, dull and empty, the feeling of wanting to do what he was told hitting his love of teddy bears, cancelling it out._

_So he let himself feel empty, finding it easier than dealing with the feelings caused by his boyfriend._

_He would lie amongst his teddy bears, hugging each individually, and sobbed into a large purple one given to him by Virgil._

_When was the last time he’d given a teddy bear to Virgil?_

_Too long._

_He wanted to._

_But every day he was being watched, being made to text every literal five minutes._

_**Why’s this message late?** _

_He was so tired of it. He couldn’t do anything when he had to text so quickly._

_But he found himself answering anyway._

_**Sorry, bad signal.** _

 

“Dee, I...I have something for you.”

Deceit blinks as Logan offers a small wrapped box. “But Secret Santa-”

“Ah, no, I got Patton for that. I just...wanted to also get _you_ something. It just reminded me of you and so...”

Logan trails off, and Deceit is sure he sees a blush. Deceit takes the box gingerly. “May I open it now…?”

“O-Of course.”

Deceit unwraps it slowly, anxious about it all. His last gift from a non-family member had been a butt plug, with an “encouraging” note. He didn’t _like_ butt plugs, but his ex had still insisted on it. But this was Logan, Logan was better than that.

“By the way, you’ve never told us your birthday. Patton’s been complaining about it, so...tell him so we can get you gifts for it.”

Deceit chuckles, and opens the box, blinking in surprise.

It’s a bracelet, a silver band in the shape of a snake, beautiful and detailed, and he runs his fingers over the scales in awe. On the inside is a small smooth section, and printed on it is simply _breathe_.

“I thought-”

“I love it...thank you, so much...”

And Deceit hugs him, tight and as close as he can get. He pulls Logan in, and Logan wraps his arms around, almost clinging onto him, hands gripping Deceit’s shirt. It’s somehow intimate, so close together, Logan rubbing his back slowly, Deceit running a hand through his hair for a moment.

And they stay like that for a few moments.

Logan wants to shower Deceit in love, tell him he’s wonderful and beautiful and perfect. He wants to stay in the embrace, to hold Dee and kiss him and make him feel like a prince. But he doesn’t, afraid to hurt him, afraid to bring up old wounds.

Deceit feels his heart leap, and it scares him how much he suddenly wants Logan, in any way he can have him. And maybe it’s not so sudden, but it hits him now like a wave, wanting to kiss him and beg for affection, to be showered in the love he never received from his past lover. But he doesn’t.

They break away, Deceit puts on the bracelet, and the two don’t act on their mutual feelings, too afraid, too knowing of the risks.

Deceit isn’t even sure he could handle a kiss.

 

“ _C’mon, kiss me,” his boyfriend teased, and Deceit sighed, smiled and kissed him._

_Warm, a strange cherry flavour, gentle. Deceit sank into his, enjoying it._

_And then there’s a bite to his lower lip, he’s pushed down onto the sofa, the kiss getting rougher. Deceit just got more nervous._

“ _Wait...”_

“ _Shh, I’m gonna give you something good.”_

“ _I just wanted to kiss you!”_

“ _Please, you know what a kiss means.”_

_Deceit felt himself start to tremble, and tried to hold back a whimper as hands trailed over him again._

_He felt dirty. He wanted to throw up as the kisses got rougher, then his boyfriend started to kiss his neck and Deceit could only try not to sob. It wasn’t right, it didn’t feel right._

“ _I’m gonna suck your dick.”_

_Deceit shook his head, tried to pull away, but then there was a hand at his throat, a silent threat._

“ _You want me to choke you whilst I do?”_

_Deceit felt fear._

_Pure fear as someone he loved squeezed his throat until he couldn’t breathe._

“ _I know you like it.”_

_He didn’t._

_He didn’t like any of it._

_He vowed not to kiss again, just in case._

 

“I’m not doing great,” Deceit tells Virgil one night, “I...I really don’t feel so good.”

_Reach out, ask for help, don’t be afraid. None of them will hurt you for asking for help, and you know it._

“What’s wrong?...Would you like a hug?”

Deceit pretty much leaps into Virgil’s arms, burying himself against him and sobbing as Virgil holds him tight, rocking slowly to comfort him.

“I hate life,” he whispers, “Virgil, every day _hurts_. I can’t get him out of my head, a-and I know logically I’m doing better, but...but I still...I want to die sometimes, Virgil.”

He pours it out, vulnerable, everything stripped back to show the raw pain behind it all. It’s scary in a way that makes his blood run cold, heart race, hands sweating, legs tense and ready to run, and he can’t stop crying.

“This isn’t me,” he cries, “Virgil, this _isn’t me_. And I don’t know who I am, but I’m so fed up of being _this_ when I could be so much more!”

“Being what?” Virgil asks, stroking his hair slowly. He wants only the best for Dee, wants to rid him of all his fears and doubts and trauma. But if he can’t do that, he’s going to be there.

“Being...being a victim.”

“You’re not. You’re a survivor.”

“But Virgil, I don’t _feel_ I am,” explains Deceit, voice desperate, “I hurt so much, and I’m so...so...scared. I can’t handle...I want to die...so badly... _this isn’t me_.”

Virgil hesitates, holds him closer as Deceit babbles, attempting to explain his mess of feelings.

“Dee, this _is_ you. And that’s ok.”

“But-”

“You are all the trauma. You are someone who wants to die, who struggles, who feels scared, a victim, a survivor...you _are_ all of that. But you’re not _just_ that.”

Deceit sobs, partially accepting what Virgil’s saying.

“You shouldn’t...separate _this_ , from the rest of you. You’re both a victim and a survivor, so to speak. A trauma victim and a regular university student. You are _both_ , and that’s _ok_.”

Deceit nods slightly, sobbing again, but quieter, almost calmer in the way he clings to his friend.

“...It’s ok,” he repeats.

“It’s ok.”

 

“Picani,” Deceit says at his next appointment, “...how do I handle a crush? I...I’m scared.”


	14. Battle Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Christmas always been so painful? Deceit can't remember, he just knows he's struggling, and that's good enough for now.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Abuse, description of abuse, mention of sex toys, non-con, implied sexual content, Dee making assumptions that Logan is quick to correct, gaslighting, kissing, Christmas, flashbacks, crying, self harm, mention of recent self harm, mention of eating disorders, self-blaming, believing oneself isn't "really" traumitised etc, blood mentions, bruises, guilt tripping, etc.

Deceit tried to ignore his crush over Christmas – he enjoyed the Secret Santa, and maybe he tried to get touch from Logan in the form of hugs or gentle hand to hand contact. Nothing more than friends would, but also as much as he could handle.

“Ready to swap?” Roman asks eagerly, and Deceit nods along with the others, trying not to pick at the scabs beneath his sleeves at his anxiousness.

He passes Virgil his present, wrapped with questionable skill that involved more sellotape than wrapping paper. Virgil just smirks though before opening it, revealing a large ish purple and yellow teddy bear. Virgil blinks, then smiles widely and hugs it tightly.

“I, uh...it’s weighted, for like...anxiety...” Dee mumbles, not daring to make eye contact. _He’s going to hate it, he’s going to toss it aside, he’s going to yell at me, he’s going to-_

Virgil reaches over and hugs him, still clutching the teddy before pulling back. “I love it, Dee. It reminds me of the one I used to have...” he trails off, “...except this one is you as well.”

Dee understood. Virgil once had a purple teddy bear, but his parents had deemed it “inappropriate” for a boy to keep after the age of ten. For as much as Virgil and the others wanted his ex dead, he had equal disdain for Virgil’s parents.

He notices that Virgil holds onto it tightly as he passes Patton a parcel with only slightly better wrapping than Deceit’s. “Here, Pat,” Virgil smiles shyly.

Deceit found the whole passing of parcels far too intense. He hated it, absolutely _hated_ it. He feared every time that someone was going to get angry, and didn’t quite trust Virgil holding onto the teddy bear. It felt too good, and he wasn’t convinced by it.

Patton’s wrapping was sloppy, but fine. Logan’s was impeccable, of course. Roman went overboard with his, including ribbons and bows, much to Deceit’s amusement.

“You’re so extra,” Logan comments, “I guess that means you have Deceit, Remy.”

Remy nods eagerly and passes Deceit a small, unwrapped box, apologising for the lack of paper.

“Honestly, I got some, but then there was this _dog_...”

Deceit feels his heart race, zoning out of Remy’s story, staring at the box. It _wouldn’t_ be a sex toy, or something equally as unwanted and embarrassing, surely? Not in front of others? Besides, Remy was nice, so…

“-and then the train came, so yeah. No paper.”

Deceit blinks slowly, just staring at the box.

“Are you ok?”

“I...yes, sorry...”

Someone places a hand on his shoulder, and he struggles to hold back his illness, focuses instead on opening the box.

It’s a photo frame, the pattern unmistakeably Remy’s own design, and inside is a photo of the six of them, gathered amongst pillows and blankets, one of their movie nights.

“I know it’s not much,” Remy says quickly, “but I didn’t want to overwhelm you, and you don’t have photos like the rest of us do...”

Deceit shakes his head quickly. “No, I...I love it,” he replies honestly, and hesitates, trying to hold back the next words, but they escape regardless, “what do I need to do?”

Remy looks confused as Deceit covers his mouth quickly, and he spots Virgil shrug.

“What do you mean?” Remy asks.

Deceit doesn’t trust himself to talk, doesn’t want to make a scene by leaving, but knows he can’t stay quiet forever.

“Let’s go to your room,” Logan suggests, mouthing something to the others that Deceit doesn’t see, and his heart makes some sort of strange motion in his chest when Logan guides him away, “you can relax now, don’t worry.”

 

“ _You can relax now,” his boyfriend said, pushing him down, and Dee shook his head quickly, instinctively trying to change the course of the activities._

“ _No, huh?”_

_He needed a way out, a way that didn’t make him hurt too badly._

“ _I-please, I was hoping...hoping to, uh, do something for you.”_

_The lies tasted sour, but his boyfriend seemed to enjoy hearing suggestions, and with enough persistence and desperation Deceit was able to make him change his mind, just enough that he stayed less sore, that he felt less dirty, that he felt like he had some sort of control over the situation._

_It was all a lie, of course, but he could lie to himself if it made him feel better, right?_

 

This time Deceit doesn’t flip out at the words, just feels himself drop into a familiar mindset, just sobs, goes for quiet pleading and begging instead.

“Please, I’m sorry,” he cries, “I’ll do anything, just don’t – just don’t – please, I don’t like it!”

Logan’s concern mixes with confusion as Deceit babbles on, pleading becoming disturbingly explicit until Logan covers his mouth with his hand quickly.

“No, Dee, I don’t expect or want any of that,” he says quickly, “I’m not here for...for _that_. I just want you to be ok.”

Some part of Deceit takes it as a rejection.

Some part of him is just thankful, and lets Logan hold him, listens to the calming voice and soothing praise, soaks it up and wishes he could record moments like these and play them back instead of his flashbacks.

 

_Deceit’s boyfriend was beautiful, truly, in an almost otherworldly way. There was truly nothing explicitly remarkable about their appearance, but everyone found them gorgeous. They were like a siren, and Deceit was fully under their charm._

“ _I love you,” his boyfriend would whisper, and Deceit’s head would go fuzzy and warm, unable to think or focus._

_Deceit once was asked what mythical creature to compare his lover to. And his reply had been instant. A fae._

_They say you should be careful with the fae, watch your words, what you give and take. Be wary of your name._

_His boyfriend could say his name a million different ways, and Deceit would freeze in place every time, desperately scratching the inside of his head for a way out of whatever situation he was about to be placed into._

_There was a second meaning behind every word, and Deceit spun himself in circles second guessing what was meant, what the price was if he took the words at face value._

“ _I love you,” his boyfriend would hiss, and Deceit would claw at bedsheets and wish he’d seen it coming._

_His boyfriend loved him, and Deceit could never be free._

 

 

“Logan, I...I’ve got to go...” Deceit approaches him the day his parents arrive, “uh, my parents are here...”

“Ah, yes...happy Christmas,” Logan smiles, hugging him quickly and gently, “see you for the new year, or after?”

“I...for,” Dee doesn’t think about it for long. He wants to see the new year in with his friends, there’s no doubt in his mind about that.

“Brilliant.” Logan beams, and Dee considers how beautiful he is, and how much he wants to kiss him. He doesn’t have time. He thinks.

“Dee?”

M aybe it’d be easier to do it now  rather than later though?

“...Mistletoe,” he croaks, and Logan glances up, sighing.

“That’s the last time Roman gets to decorate my room,” he mutters, “ignore it, he got overexcited, and I hadn’t noticed.”

D eceit’s pretty sure there’s a lie in there,  but he doesn’t pursue it. He doesn’t have time if he wants to do this.

“No...I...I mean yes, but... _mistletoe_...we kiss, right?”

L ogan blinks, and Deceit looks away quickly,  silently cursing himself for  asking.  Then he hears Logan chuckle.

“We’ll need to talk more about it if you want an _actual_ kiss,” Logan says honestly, but then he places a hand beneath Deceit’s chin gently and presses his lips to the side of his mouth, where skin meets scar.

D eceit’s scar  is bumpy  and  rough,  wrinkles at the edges that  he can feel on his lips.  It’s a contrast to the smoothness of the skin,  to Logan’s own soft l ips.

L ogan has kissed his cheek many times,  but never on the scars,  never so close to his lips,  and  it wasn’t what he had hoped for  but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t take his breath away.

L ogan smiles, removing his hand. “ See you after Christmas, then?”

D eceit nods,  slow and small.

“Y-Yeah...see you after Christmas.”

 

_First kisses, in Deceit’s opinion, were something that could be surprisingly deceptive. You couldn’t use them to predict how relationships would turn out. Maybe he was just bitter about how lovely his first kiss had been in comparison to how awful the relationship turned out to be, but still. He figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Better to be cautious than throw yourself into love._

 

Being back at home should have been fun, or at least pleasant. And yes, he loved seeing his parents, making gingerbread with his mum and watching silly Christmas films with his dad (later arguing over Skype with Virgil on whether or not _Nightmare Before Christmas_ was a Christmas film or not). And he had left on such a good note that he didn’t feel like there was any reason to complain.

But everything at home hurt, and there was no option for him to flee the flat at two in the morning if push came to shove. And his friends weren’t in the other room ready for him to call upon. And a phone call wasn’t the same.

When he woke up on the twenty third alone in his home, struggling to fight off a ghost of his past and sobbing as he relived every trauma that occurred under those sheets, his parents had been out. A note downstairs served to let him know, but it wasn’t helpful there and then.

He feels himself choke, struggles and kicks up, desperately telling himself what was and wasn’t real, finally shutting his eyes tightly and feeling around for his phone, trying to bring himself back into the present by shutting off the different senses.

Loud music and the still blackness of the back of his eyelids slowly bring him back fully. It worked, but he preferred the way his friends could pull him back.

The gentle fall into reality was so much nicer than being jerked back into it.

“Dee, are you ok?” his mother asks eventually, after the third time he spaces out that day, “you’ve been acting odd...”

“Leave the boy alone,” his father says, but his words are weak, “he’ll tell us if anything’s up...right, Dee?”

“Right.”

 

“ _You’ll tell me if something’s wrong, right Dee?”_

_The night before his lover had ignored his protests that it hurt, fingers moving deep and scratching until he bled._

“ _You’ll tell me if something’s wrong, right Dee?”_

_The day before his lover had torn apart healing scabs whilst yelling at him for the original wounds._

“ _You’ll tell me if something’s wrong, right Dee?”_

_The day before he’d snidely commented on Dee’s weight, suggesting an eating disorder wouldn’t be so bad._

“ _You’ll tell me.”_

_Dee recognised a double edged sword when he saw one. Tell, and get hurt for whatever it is that’s wrong. Don’t tell, and he’ll find out, and you’ll regret it. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t._

_So Dee learnt to smile, to shake his head._

“ _You’ll tell me if something’s wrong, right Dee?”_

“ _Of course. But nothing’s wrong.”_

 

Really, Deceit should have known better. He’d seen the trigger warnings, and stupidly assumed he could handle it. It’d been years since anything had happened, after all. Three years still counted as years plural, right?

But no, he’d ignored it all, started reading the damn story, and now his skin _crawled._ Something inside felt raw and sickening, and he could feel it bubbling beneath his skin, threatening to burst out.

He curls up tighter under the mess of blankets, clutching his stomach and covering his eyes. The sight was always the worst thing.

Well. That, and his brain hissing at him that he was an idiot, making a big deal out of nothing, telling him to read up on what _real_ PTSD was like, what _real_ survivors had been through.

“Shut up,” he hisses to himself, “shut up, mum and dad are gonna hear you and know what a damn _freak_ you are!”

The voice in his head cackles back at him, and he bites down on his hand to stop himself whimpering. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

He wanted to bleed, he wanted to _burn_. He wanted to remove every part of him that had been touched by his ex and replace it, rebuild the skin one cell at a time.

He lets out a sob and reaches for his phone gingerly. He could ask for help, right? It didn’t matter that he’d already asked so much from them all, he could ask again, right?

_No, stop. You should be able to handle this. Besides, what are you going to say? “Oh please give me reassurance, I was an idiot and triggered myself!” They’ll think you did it on purpose. They’ll think-_

He hisses and starts typing furiously to the group chat. Fuck that. If he had learnt anything from the shitstorm that had been his life for the past eight years or so, it was that at any given point in time, there was a high chance he was wrong about something, or doing something stupid, or not doing something right, and so on.

**Guys, I feel bad.**

No.

**Guys, I feel like my skin needs to die.**

Not quite.

**Guys, I want to remove my skin so I never have to think about my ex touching me again.**

He manages to send it half way through typing.

**Guys, I want to remove my skin.**

There’s two instant replies.

Remy: **Mood.**

Virgil: **Tried that, turned out badly. What’s up?**

Deceit sighs, chuckling weakly before continuing what he had planned to say initially. Followed by the fact that he knew it was stupid, and that he was sorry, and so forth.

Logan: **Technically, your body rebuilds itself. In a few years, you’ll have a body he never touched.**

Roman: **You will have a body made out of iron and bloodshed!**

Logan: **What? Roman, no.**

Patton: **And stardust!**

Logan: **I fear you misunderstand the human body.**

Deceit laughs, and it takes him a moment to realise that he _laughed_. It jerks him out of his head, just laughing at the fact that he’s underneath a ton of blankets being told about the human body by Logan, whilst the others include “facts” to back up the nerd.

Virgil: **Fun fact,** **humans are actually born with tails.**

Logan: **Falsehood. Virgil, you took Biology last year, you know that’s wrong.**

Remy: **Humans are at least 60% otter.**

Logan: **Why are none of you ever helpful.**

Deceit chuckles, and texts back a thank you before sighing. Iron, bloodshed and stardust, hm? He pulls off his gloves and looks at his hand, biting his lip.

He hated his skin. He hated it. He wanted to tear it off. Try again, peel every layer away.

_In a few years, you’ll have a body he never touched._

That could be good enough for now.

_A body of iron, bloodshed and stardust._

“A whole new body,” he mumbles to himself, “...I’d like that.”

 

_ Deceit could  separate his time by touch. _

_ H e could wake up  and avoid touch until he got to school,  ducking his parents hugs and  making excuses to avoid feeling the  sting of  others’  skin on his own. _

_ H e could dodge others in the hall,  wear gloves and long sleeves, anything to make a barrier  between  himself and everyone else. _

_ A  verbal barrier did just as well – a sneer, a chuckle, a derisive comment meant to make people leave him alone. He could see the change in their minds as they went from reaching out to picking something up. _

_ During the day his touch came from his boyfriend, on his arms, under his  top,  on his cheeks,  lips on  scars and  fingers tangled in hair.  Gentle in many ways,  soft and romantic.  So frequently pulled into hugs and  kisses that it made his body ache. _

_ D uring the night his touch came still from his boyfriend,  rougher and  more intense, like  bugs over his skin. Heavy  metal bugs that  wormed inside him and  covered his mouth when he wanted to scream.  His skin was forced to be uncovered and  the fire  sco rched every  inch. _

_ T here was the time without touch,  where he felt needy but  vulnerable, anxious to be held and loved but  anxious to have it taken too far, to  have  hands become fingers and fingers become nails, draining blood from his hips. _

_ T here was the time with soft, gentle touches, the sort of touch he’d crave if he could trust the person giving it to him.  Cuddles and  butterfly kisses, kneading s ore sk in.  But it could so quickly change,  fluttering  glances becoming  painful grips and  deep blue bruises. _

_ A nd the time where touch  was overwhelming,  everywhere, inside him and out.  Where he tried to blank it out, tried to forget, but come morning would always feel  the  scabbing and  throbbing  in ways that made his whole body cringe. _

_ T ime and touch were nothing without each other, it seemed. _

 

Deceit wakes up and stretches, rubbing his itchy arms and making a note to start his “how long since” count back at zero. He gets up, heads downstairs, and his mother drops a plate.

“Dee…?”

He pauses, seeing his parents stare, and curses himself under his breath, unable to comprehend his stupidity in forgetting long sleeves. He was too used to being around people who knew, it seemed.

“Mum, Dad, I...”

“Dee, oh god, what...why...”

“Son, you never said...”

They fuss around him, guiding him into another room, sitting him down, faces showing nothing but concern and worry.

“Mum, Dad...”

They look at him with concern, hands on his. He tries again.

“Mum, Dad, I...” Deceit swallows nervously, “...I need to talk to you about something.”

 

“ _What would you say if I walked away right now?” his boyfriend asked, fire in his eyes and a smirk on his face._

“ _What do you mean?”_

“ _If I left, right now. What would you say?”_

“ _You wouldn’t, right?”_

“ _So you wouldn’t care?”_

“ _I didn’t-”_

“ _Just tell me what you’d do!”_

“ _Let go of me-”_

 

Deceit collapses into tears as his parents hold him tightly, the sound of Christmas carols chirping along on the radio.

“He _hurt_ me,” he whimpers, and it all comes tumbling out, words falling like glitter, and lingering just as much, “he hurt me and I’m sorry, I tried – I never – I didn’t want it, I really...”

 

“ _Merry Christmas Dee.”_

 

“Dee, who?”

 

“ _You’re supposed to kiss me, you know.”_

 

“Dee, we won’t judge you.”

 

“ _What sort of boyfriend are you if you won’t have sex with me?”_

 

“Dee…?”

 

“ _Don’t make me angry on Christmas.”_

 

Dee slumps slightly, and covers his face with his hands as his jaw locks up, tongue gluing itself to the top of his mouth, words frozen like the ice on the roads outside.

_Iron and bloodshed and stardust,_ he tells himself,  _you are iron and bloodshed and stardust._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I was in therapy all the way through my relationship, but my jaw would do the locking up thing and my tongue would freeze, so I could never explain what was going on in my relationship. It's a sucky side effect where your body basically says "nah mate, nah".


	15. That Distant Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit doesn't handle his parents knowing about his problems very well, and Logan is made to talk Deceit into coming home early. Meanwhile Deceit knows he's on the edge of slipping back into unhealthy mindsets, and isn't convinced that he shouldn't just let it happen. Virgil worries for both Dee and Logan.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Abuse, descriptions of abuse, uh...mentions and implied rape, knives, selective mutism I think, mentions of child abuse (fictional child abuse. ...as in, mentions of fictional child abuse), mention of acid in eyes, mention of torture, self harm, dissociation I think, upset parents, guilt, brief mention of "fluids" (literally the word in a non-con context), mentions of Deceit's latex allergy, Larry and Dot blame themselves, mentions of collar, the word "pet" being used derogatorily, sexual implications/mentions/minor descriptions. Main thing to worry about is that this chapter deals with Dee being made to do sexual acts whilst dissociating, which uh...not good, kiddos. Stay safe. Listen to triggers. Unlike me, who is a moron and overestimates my ability to deal with triggers. I'll learn my lesson.

Deceit isn’t sure how you’re supposed to tell your parents that you were in an abusive relationship for five years. He’s not sure how much you’re supposed to say. There’s obviously a limit, right? You don’t tell them how you were raped in your own bedroom, how they pressed a knife to your throat in the comfort of your own home, how you left because you were sure they were going to kill you.

He hesitantly takes out his phone, pulling up a text-to-speech app and types in what he wants to say, wincing at the mechanical sound, at how emotionless the voice is, at how he must look.

_My boyfriend abused me. I have PTSD. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you._

There’s pain in his parents eyes, and he forces himself to look away. He wants to curl up, wants to throw up, wants to let himself go into whatever mentality his brain decided would keep him safe. What if his parents blamed him? He blamed himself, why wouldn’t they? They always told him to stand up for himself, and he let them down.

He doesn’t respond when his parents hug him tightly, fighting the urge to let go, fighting himself to stay in the present, stay...just stay.

_I’m sorry._

He repeats the phrase until his head gives out and he collapses into mental darkness.

 

_His boyfriend liked to roleplay. A lot. It was one of the things that kept Deceit up so late and awake so early. He himself liked roleplaying, yes, but he hated being made to roleplay the scenes his boyfriend loved so much. He hated having to google torture methods to prevent the complaint of “this isn’t realistic enough”. He hated having to roleplay rape scenes. He hated being made to roleplay the bad guys._

_He tried to tell him this, of course. His boyfriend just didn’t really care. The roleplay wasn’t for Deceit, after all, it was for him. To keep him happy, to try keep the roleplay out of their real life. Should you be worried about someone wanting to roleplay child abuse? Deceit was pretty sure you should, and wasn’t sure how long he could keep that out of their roleplay._

_He might not have been so concerned if the drawings didn’t start following, if his boyfriend didn’t talk about it almost obsessively, if ideas of torture weren’t whispered between kisses._

_Deceit tried to smile, tried to act interested, tried to act like it doesn’t bother him, and for the most part he did a pretty good job._

“ _I appreciate this,” his boyfriend said one day, “it’s good to...let stuff out, you know?”_

_Deceit didn’t, and the messages he received didn’t make him feel any better. It was sick, and the grin on his lovers face made him wonder what the motivation was to begin with._

“ _Maybe we should try...something happier,” he suggested._

“ _Sure, but first, I was thinking we should get acid poured into this character’s eyes.”_

“ _...can we heal him?”_

“ _What? No, he has to stay blind. What’s the point of torturing him otherwise?”_

_Deceit made sure to be wary of what his lover put near his eyes after that._

 

He messages Logan to let him know that his parents found out. He hasn’t spoken yet, not really been responsive, just let himself get moved around. But it was good news, right? And besides, he wanted to talk about it. He thinks.

Logan calls him on Skype, looking concerned, and Deceit sighs. Skype was so much fun. Skype was lovely. Who didn’t want to video call someone?

“How did it go?” Logan asks, and Deceit blinks slowly, “...Dee?”

Deceit opens up his text to speech app again.

_It was hard. I can’t remember much. They’re worried._

Logan nods slowly. “...Struggling to talk?”

Deceit nods back, glancing away. He felt stupid doing this. Why did people video chat if they didn’t want to keep an eye on the other, or to talk kinks? He didn’t trust the supposed innocence of the situation, but was pretty sure it was only going to go downhill once Logan worked out that he wasn’t good for much else on a video call.

“It’s ok. How did you start the conversation?”

_Forgot sleeves. They saw my cuts._

“How has that been, by the way…?”

Deceit’s instinct is to just show, just obey, but Logan’s not really _told_ him to do anything. And besides, after the incident with his parents he’d gone to town with a razor, and he wasn’t going to inflict the trauma of seeing the mess he’d made of his arms on poor Logan. He wasn’t even going to talk about it, just in case Logan picked up on how bad it is.

_Fine._

Logan raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he changes the subject, and Deceit is thankful for it.

“We miss you,” he says simply, “Patton keeps forgetting that there’s less people to cook for. Thankfully Roman is eating the extra food.”

Deceit knows Logan’s trying to be comforting, but Deceit doesn’t feel the comfort. He just hears _we don’t need you, you eat too much and it’s annoying._ He has to shake it out of him, trying to focus on what Logan’s actually saying.

“...If you need to come home-I mean, come back here- sooner, just say,” Logan says, half a whisper, “...you look pretty...bad.”

Logan _wants_ to say that Deceit looks like he’s been re-traumatised all over again. And that perhaps returning to a place you associate with abuse isn’t a good idea. But he knows full well that if he says that Deceit will take it badly in his current state of mind.

_I’m fine. Thanks, Lo._

Logan isn’t sure how far you’re meant to push it.

“Really, Dee, you...you look…”

_Lo. What do you want from me?_

There’s silence between them, and Logan notices the dead look in Deceit’s eyes, how dull and out of it he is. It’s the face of someone who’s given up, and Logan isn’t sure what he’s given up on.

“I just want you to be ok.”

Something flickers in Deceit’s eyes, and he croaks out a thank you before his mother enters the room.

 

_Deceit’s boyfriend knew full well how much Deceit related to one character in particular. He knew Deceit liked to imagine himself as this character, how Deceit had done everything he could to make this character have a happy life. A happy ending._

_So when the character’s child was kidnapped and tortured, Deceit had just about had enough._

“ _What the hell? I thought we agreed to leave them out of this!” Dee snapped, “you promised-”_

“ _Chill, it’s just for drama. The kid will be fine.”_

“ _I don’t like this!”_

_Cold eyes, a hand in his hair, whispers in his ear. Every touch was a warning, and Dee knew it. His lover stroked his hair firmly, dragging his fingers, and Deceit knew that it would take barely a moment for it to become harsh, for hairs to be yanked out, for him to be pulled around by the longer parts._

“ _It’s just a roleplay, Dee.”_

_It was just a roleplay. But Dee loved his character, wanted so badly to keep the happy ending. He was going to get hurt sooner or later anyways, so why not try talk his lover out of this?_

“ _I don’t care, I don’t want this scene to happen!”_

_His head felt fuzzy, like falling into a pit of nothingness. His body felt heavy, he couldn’t seem to come up with original thoughts, come up with ideas on what to do, how to move. It was like being a sim, and having the “free will” turned off._

“ _Well come up with something to do instead.”_

“ _I’ll do anything, please...”_

_He let himself switch off, let himself be guided through the motions. He followed every instruction to the letter, never daring to stray, not sure he could even if he wanted to._

_He faded in and out. He went from blackness to lying back on the bed, teeth at his throat, back to black, only to come to on top, obediently wrapping his lips around his lover’s cock._

_In and out, his brain switching on and off, until he’s curled up against his boyfriend, roleplay forgotten, sore and covered in fluids, filled with an urge to scrape off his skin and throw up his insides._

“ _Alright,” his boyfriend whispered, “we can let the kid stay safe, but here’s my idea instead...”_

 

Dot was worried about her son, obviously. He hadn’t spoken since they’d seen the cuts, and from the surprise and shock on his face it was obvious he hadn’t realised they were on show. But the scars worried her more than the cuts. There were so many layers, healing and faded, white as snow and purple as foxglove.

She looks at her husband, and rubs his shoulders gently. “Dee’s going to be ok,” she says, as hopeful as she can make herself be, “he’s seeing a therapist at university, after all.”

Larry looks up at her and sighs. “I know. But...how did I miss it...how didn’t we see? He had that boy over so much...I feel like we must have overlooked something...I mean, I thought something was off that time Dee had the accident with the latex, but...”

“I know, hun...” She presses a kiss to his forehead, “I think...I think the boy kept it well hidden. He always seemed so polite, I imagine he fooled everyone...I mean, Dee wouldn’t have gotten with him if he knew what he was like, after all.”

“You’re right...still, I feel so bad...”

The pair don’t notice Dee listening in, back pressed against the wall, heart sinking and trying not to cry. It wasn’t like he could say anything if he knew what he wanted to say anyways. He’d left his phone upstairs, his only source of communication right now.

He slinks away back upstairs and sobs into his pillow.

 

“ _You’re like a pet.”_

_Deceit was pretty sure it was meant to be affectionate once upon a time. Comparisons to kittens or puppies were usually a sign of “aww you’re so cute”, after all. But these days it just sounded mocking._

_He was easy to guide around, he knew that. His lover claimed to be submissive, but pushing someone around and physically moving them into the positions you wanted them to be in was, to the best of Deceit’s knowledge, not a typically submissive thing._

“ _Look at you...all you need is a collar and you’re good to go.”_

_Deceit rolled his eyes, not saying anything out of fear of the reaction. Besides, judging from the way his lover pushes two fingers into his mouth, he’s not expected to speak._

“ _You’re so good, doing what you’re told...”_

_In time, Deceit became pretty sure that was all he was good at._

 

Logan was under strict instructions from Virgil to try convince Deceit to return back to them. Deceit was looking worse by the day, and without input from Deceit’s parents Logan really had no idea what was going on, or how to help.

“Virgil thinks...Virgil would like it if you came back a day or two early,” he tries.

_Virgil should man up and tell me that himself._

“There’s fireworks on the 27th – want to come over for that?”

_I’m not fond of fireworks. Too loud._

“Deceit, I really want to see you.”

_Soon._

It just wasn’t working. At ten am on the 23rd Deceit looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten for three days straight – which was, perhaps, quite accurate. But by ten pm that same day he looked like he’d then attempted a marathon.

“Dee, you’re running yourself into the ground,” he half snaps, “let me talk to your parents, now.”

Surprisingly, Dee obeys, and his mother comes into vision, waving at Logan awkwardly.

“You must be Logan. Dee’s…typed about you.”

She looks pretty awful too, and Logan feels immense guilt for what he’s about to do.

“Miss-”

“Just call me Dot, sweety.”

“...Right. Dot. Um, so, Dee looks like he’s having a hard time...and...I...we...myself and his friends, that is...we think he should return sooner than intended. I think he associates the house with...stuff?”

How do you tell a parent that their son doesn’t feel safe in their house?

Dot sighs though. “Yes. Larry thought so too...don’t give me that look, Dee, you’re clearly not ok. I love you, we both love you so much, but if you’d do better elsewhere then...”

Logan turns off the call at his end, not wanting to intrude.

Meanwhile Deceit cries as his parents hug him tightly, reassuring him that they love him, and want only the best for him.

“Our brave boy,” his father whispers, and Dee lets out something close to speech, some sort of wail before burying deeper into the love.

 

“ _You’re a bit much, you know?”_

_Deceit eyed his boyfriend warily, stabbing his fork into his food. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, he didn’t know what he was going to be lectured for. He just knew it was better not to say anything until he was sure of what direction things were going to go in._

“ _You left painkillers all over the bathroom. I had to clean it up. It was annoying, I’m not your servant, you know.”_

_Well that wasn’t what he expected._

“ _Sorry. Last night hurt.”_

“ _Yeah, so you said. Just saying. Clean up.”_

_Deceit held eye contact for a bit too long._

“ _What? You got a problem?”_

“ _No, I just-”_

“ _Not my problem your skin is all weak...”_

_Deceit bristled, but a hand on his head made him start to fade out, words and actions failing him in comparison to listening to his lover explain why he deserved whatever happened to him._

“ _You’re so weird...you like it when I boss you around, don’t you?”_

_Deceit shook his head, but his lover didn’t care, mocking him for the way he faded out._

_He tried to say that he wanted to stop, go lie down, wait for things to pass, but he couldn’t really stop his lover doing whatever he wanted. So he let the darkness claim him, body numb, head floating, everything pushed aside._

_He was aware he must be conscious to some extent. He knew his body was moving, after all, and to some extent he knew he was doing stuff, but he wasn’t fully aware._

_He came to later, half way through making some weak apology, and tried to work out if fading out of the situation was better or worse than being awake and aware the whole time._

_He decided he didn’t want to think about it._

 

Dr Emile Picani gets an email on Christmas Eve about Deceit needing a bit of extra help, with details on his mental state, as seen by his parents. He chuckles at the note at the bottom, an eager “how have things been it’s been so long”. He always loved Dot and Larry, and it was nice to meet their son, even if the situation weren’t the best.

He replies back explaining that he’ll do his best, and then writes five paragraphs on his feelings of the latest episode of Steven Universe.

 

_Deceit liked Steven Universe, even if his lover hated it. Looking back at it he expected himself to resonate with Lapis. Lapis, traumatised and trapped for a thousand years, in a toxic fusion. Lapis, whose song Deceit really did connect with._

_(Then I see the colours fading.)_

_But outside of the song he identified with Peridot, which surprised him. But at the same time, it made sense._

_Peridot, who knew only what she’d been told. Who didn’t question the caste system of Homeworld, who assumed someone more than her knew better. Who served someone who didn’t give a shit about her._

_Deceit felt that._

_Peridot spent so much time in the series coming to understand that the way things were on Homeworld were wrong, understanding that what she’d been told, about others and herself, were wrong. Peridot thought she was nothing without technology. She thought all there was to her was what the diamonds made of her._

_Deceit spend so much time coming to understand that his relationship was well and truly fucked up. That what his ex had to say about him was wrong. He still believed he was nothing on his own, but, well….Peridot was wrong, so maybe he could be wrong as well?_

_Every now and then he could even tell himself that he was worth more than what he was told, than what he believed._

_Every now and again he could tell himself that he was worth plenty on his own, no matter what he was told in the past._

_(Maybe I’m not alone.)_

 

“So, we’ll see you on the 27th?” Logan asks, and Deceit nods.

_They’re going to be exchanging notes with Picani so that they know what’s going on. Mostly. I don’t want them to know about the sexual stuff._

“I can imagine,” Logan says, a bit too dryly, but Deceit offers a small smile, “well...happy Christmas, Dee. I...I miss you, still.”

_Happy Christmas. I can’t wait to see you again._

Logan smiles, and Deceit feels something flutter inside, coughs, managing to mutter “I miss you too.”

“See you soon.”

_See you soon._

Logan ends the call and sighs before whispering “I love you.”

“You guys need to stop dancing around your feelings,” Virgil says from the doorway, and Logan turns to him, shrugging.

“I’m not sure if he’s in the best mindset for that right now,” Logan mumbles, “I don’t want to upset him.”

Virgil hums and nods. “I guess so. But you two need to talk it out sooner or later. Clear the air and all that shit...”

“The air is perfectly clear.”

“You know what I mean, Lo. Good communication is important. Doubly so if you’re dealing with someone suffering trauma. I worry he misunderstands stuff, and I don’t want you getting hurt either.”

“I’m not going to get hurt,” Logan says, rolling his eyes, and Virgil shrugs.

“Sure, but like...talk. Ok?”

Logan rolls his eyes.

“Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No lie, "That Distant Shore" (Lapis' song in Steven Universe) is so fitting for PTSD type stuff. The idea of being happy or doing ok but having your past and shit interrupt and mess stuff up, whilst still wanting to be not alone? Bingo. Makes me cry every time, especially with the animation. So perfect.


	16. Just Like Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit returns to the others, talks about feelings with Logan, and discusses Steven Universe with Dr Picani. Oh, and he meets Elliot, an enby who he suspects is in an abusive relationship.
> 
> TW: Abuse, abuse descriptions, rape mention, talk of physical abuse, mention of consensual sex, isolation, medical people being unhelpful, victim blaming and denial of PTSD in domestic abuse victims.

Deceit arrives at what _feels_ like home on the evening of the 27th. His parents double check a dozen times that he’s ok with this, and he doesn’t have the heart to admit that he feels uncomfortable at their house due to the memories.

His friends are there to greet him when he arrives, throwing their arms around him and asking him as many questions as they can. Patton stands by to talk to his parents, and he’s pretty certain that the three are planning to share tips on embarrassing him. Patton was already such a parental figure, he might as well go the full distance, after all.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Dee says, as casually as he can manage, “nice to see you weirdos again.”

Virgil hugs him tightly, firm and comforting, a weighted blanket pulling him close. He smells like lavender and vanilla, and radiates enough heat to keep three snakes through the winter. The teddy bear Dee gave him is on the sofa, showing signs of love.

Roman plays with his hair, fingernails painted gold and red, chipped but still regal. His hair smells like caramel, and Dee wants to bury himself in the sweet smell, wants to run his hands back through his hair, feel the soft dark curls between his fingers.

Remy is a chubby bundle of affection that throws themselves at Deceit, arms wrapping around, splashes of paint still drying over their scarred arms. The smell of charcoal and paint thinner is in everything they own, and their eyes are circled by bright blue eyeshadow.

Patton joins the love, freckles burning like supernovas, eyes deep-set and tawny, soft in comparison to his sharp jawline. His glasses are held together by mostly sellotape, clothes freshly washed and still smelling of detergent, whilst his hands are already grubby with flour and dirt.

And then there’s Logan, who places a gentle kiss to Deceit’s scars. Eyes like late night galaxies, a smile that Deceit would kiss a thousand times if asked, the scent of coffee in his clothes, rich and deep and bittersweet. Warm hands with long fingers that typed ninety words a minute and a voice that made Dee weak.

It’s perfect. They’re all so perfect.

“Nice to have you back.”

He blushes, makes sure to say goodbye to his parents, reassuring them that he would be just fine, that his friends were there, that he would keep them updated and see Dr Picani as soon as possible.

“Alright, dear,” his mother says, almost sadly, and his father kisses his forehead, “take care, ok?”

“I will.”

 

 

“ _I can’t believe you shoved me like that.”_

“ _I said I was sorry.”_

“ _You know, if I’d shoved you, you’d be sobbing about how abusive I was,” his boyfriend snapped, and Deceit winced._

“ _I told you repeatedly to stop.”_

“ _Nothing excuses hitting someone,” his boyfriend said simply, folding his arms, “like I said, you’d be furious if I’d hit you.”_

“ _But you-”_

“ _No excuses, Dee! You hurt me!”_

“ _You tried to rape me!”_

 

“Can we talk about the mistletoe incident?” Logan asks Deceit two days later, “I want to know where we stand.”

Deceit feels panic rise, but shoves it down, nodding instead and inviting Logan into his room. He felt better this way. _His_ room. More his room than his actual room back at his parents house, so he felt. He was more in control here, even if he wasn’t.

“Um, what did you want to start with?” Deceit asks, trying to keep from sounding as nervous as he feels.

“...I like you,” Logan says, not firmly, but with an essence of ‘this is a fact’, “I am aware you are not in a good place to pursue a relationship, but I wish to make my feelings clear. I feel for you romantically.”

Deceit breathes deeply and looks away, trying to keep from showing his embarrassment, his nervousness, and equally his happiness.

“I...” _I like you too._ “...I don’t think I’d be great for you, though,” he admits, “I...I mean, look at me, I’m a mess. And I was never really into sex even before this all started, and...yeah...”

Logan shrugs. “Sex hadn’t crossed my mind. But I have no problem with going without it if my partner wishes to abstain. And as for you being a mess...” his face contorts into a thoughtful expression, “...that certainly hasn’t changed that you’re a...a good person, and one I enjoy being around.”

Deceit bites his lip, chewing away at the skin, trying to process the idea that Logan _liked_ him, despite his messiness.

“Doesn’t it bother you that I’m...” _Dirty, second hand,_ _used up, spoiled goods?_ “...that I’ve had...had, uh, that my ex...that my ex sexually assaulted me?”

“Of course it bothers me.” _I knew it._ “But not like _that_. It bothers me in the way of, it makes me sad that you were hurt.... _He_ makes me sad, for hurting you.”

“I don’t understand,” Deceit whispers, starting to tremble, “I don’t understand...how...how can you like me? I’m a mess and I’m a liar and worthless and stupid and I don’t deserve someone like you...”

“Dee-”

“This isn’t right, you’re supposed to be with someone good, like Patton-”

“Patton is aromantic-”

“Logan, there’s nothing in me worth loving!”

He half shouts it, and then there’s silence, both of them shocked by his outburst. Just as he starts to fear he’s angered Logan, Logan’s face softens slightly, melting into something gentle.

“But that’s not true.”

“It _is._ ” Deceit finds himself starting to cry, desperate to make Logan see his mistake.

“Deceit, you’re a wonderful person. I see it in you every day. But most importantly, I can work out for myself who’s worth my falling in love with.”

“That’s what I thought and look what happened,” snaps Deceit, sobbing harder, “please, stop, you can’t like me, it’s only going to end badly for you!”

“Are you going to hurt me?” Logan asks, in his usual _I already know the answer_ tone.

“Of course not,” whispers Deceit, “I...I would never want to hurt you...I...have I? I have, haven’t I? I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-”

“No, you haven’t. It’s ok. You haven’t hurt me, and you won’t. It’s ok.”

Deceit sniffs. “...ok...”

“See? Everything will be fine. I’m not asking for a relationship, don’t worry. I only intended to clear the air.”

Deceit breathes deeply. _4, 7, 8. Or was it 4, 7, 5? Damn it!_

“...But I like you too.”

 

_His boyfriend rounded on him once the words were out of his mouth, grabbing him by the collar even as Deceit tries to run. They were at school, Deceit was meant to be safe here. He vaguely wondered why he ever considered safety, when safety became a thing he had to worry about. He tried to scream, tried to kick, but his boyfriend covered his mouth and glared._

“ _Would you shut up? You can’t just go round throwing that word around! I could get into trouble, you know. And all because you changed your mind afterwards.”_

_Deceit tried to shake his head, tried to protest, tried so hard. But what was the point? It was just them, it was unlikely that anyone else would come in anytime soon, not in the barely used and mostly broken bathroom during the middle of third session. He wasn’t strong enough to fight back, he couldn’t rely on anyone else to save him, and left to his own devices his boyfriend certainly wouldn’t stop suddenly._

_So there and then Deceit realised he could only rely on himself, could only rely on his voice, on saying what needed to be said in order to survive and get through the next day. To make himself look small and docile and submissive to appease his lover._

_(He had to repeat this realisation a few times over a few months for it to stick, but eventually it would stick.)_

_In the meantime he just let his body go limp, looked downwards, did his best to look apologetic and meek. He nodded along to what was being said, and quickly apologised once his mouth was free. His boyfriend left, and Deceit sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t like who he was becoming, but he was rapidly losing sight of an alternative._

_He had no friends, his family were oblivious, and he was doubtful he’d be believed. Besides, his boyfriend had made it clear he didn’t want to be outed, and getting help would definitely out him. Deceit wasn’t about that life, no way._

_He let himself start to cry as he realises how alone he is, how leaving felt scarier than staying, how messed up that felt. But better the devil you know, right? At least he wasn’t alone with his boyfriend around._

_Surprisingly, someone enters, and Deceit forced himself to stop crying, wiping his eyes as he turned to see who it was. Just a regular student, a lower year group than him, looking concerned._

“ _I heard crying. Are you ok?”_

“ _I’m fine. What are you even doing here? Go back to your class.”_

_He watched them flee then took one glance in the mirror before leaving as well._

_His smooth, scarless face stared back at him._

 

Nothing really changed after their talk, really. Or, rather, things did, but not drastically. Deceit found Logan’s hand on his a few times, gentle and reassuring. There were more kisses on the cheek, closer to his mouth than necessary, and equally on both scar tissue and “normal” skin.

Logan and him started spending more time together, even if it was something simple like reading in the same room together. They texted during the day more, they attended an LGBT New Years Event “together”.

(The others came too, but did their own thing, _so…_ )

It wasn’t a relationship, they both knew, and Deceit was thankful for that. He wasn’t sure how to handle an actual relationship, but the increased touch and affection was appreciated, as well as something he craved.

Of course, he desperately wanted more, and would happily beg for a kiss, would happily do whatever Logan wanted if he got more affection as a result of it. But that only made him realise that yes, Logan was correct. He couldn’t enter a relationship feeling like that.

He makes sure to bring it up with Picani the first week back. His desire to pursue a relationship versus the knowledge that he would struggle with how to act and behave in a healthy one.

Picani hums, then brings up Steven Universe, because of course he does.

“Let’s compare you to Pearl,” he suggests.

“Oh yay.”

“You’ve watched the show, you know her story. Made for Pink Diamond, made to be a loyal servant. Followed her throughout, even when she became Rose Quartz. She kept secrets for her for, what, thousands of years? She’s an impressive gem.”

Deceit rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know. I like her, she’s had such great character development, from when she used to have difficulties not...acting like a pearl.”

Picani nods, waving his pen about, “yes! I see her in you. You certainly weren’t made or anything, but you were manipulated into someone who took a lot of abuse in the name of love. Pearl and Rose Quartz weren’t a toxic couple, but there was a definite power imbalance that affected Pearl and what she did.”

Deceit hesitates, understanding a little what he meant.

“You think...that like Pearl was... _moulded_ into being...what was considered ideal, an ideal servant...I was...also moulded, in a way...into being...I guess what my ex considered an ideal boyfriend...including putting up with abuse.”

“Exactly,” Picani smiles, almost sadly, “now, when Rose and Pearl fused they became Rainbow Quartz. A spectacular, beautiful gem indeed. But inside there was still that power difference, still the difficulties that Pearl in particular faced.”

“I guess so...”

“But of course – spoilers for those at home who haven’t seen the latest episodes!”

“What?”

“-Pearl fuses with Steven to create Rainbow Quartz 2.0! And there’s so much more _personality_ in them! We see very little of the original Rainbow Quartz, of course, but the new version is instantly more charming, more obviously them, and perfectly and immediately shows off the two’s strengths and personalities.”

“...You think that’s like my relationships?”

“In a way. You show traits of Pearl when your trauma takes over, but your relationship was outright abusive due to your partner. But like Rainbow Quartz, I strongly believe that when you choose to pursue a relationship it will be better and more equal. It will take time, and support, but I believe in you.”

Deceit sniffs and smiles weakly. _I believe in you._ That was nice to hear.

“I...thank you, Picani.”

“Never a need to thank me, Dee. Now...what else should we discuss before we go onto your tests?”

“Oh, well...my nightmares have been returning as of late...”

 

_There was no answer from the Crisis Team. Of course not, Deceit thought, as thoughts overwhelmed him, crowding around his head, forcing their way into his lungs so he struggled to breathe. He wasn’t worth it, he didn’t deserve help, he was making a big fucking deal over nothing._

_He curled up tightly and sobbed._

_He didn’t understand. He was trying. He was supposed to call lines if things got bad, but what was the point if they didn’t help? If he was left to himself to deal with it all?_

_His phone ringed and he grabbed it, hopeful, only to feel his heart sink. It was his boyfriend. He answered it though, trying to sound positive and happy, knowing that his boyfriend didn’t like to hear about his difficulties these days._

_So instead he listened as his boyfriend explained how his boss was angry at him for skipping work, and how unfair it was._

“ _It was like...half an hour at the most! After my lunch break! And I had no work to do anyway, really! I don’t understand what his issue is!”_

_Deceit nodded along, making verbal acknowledgements each time he remembered that he was on the phone and so needed to talk._

_He hated it though. He hated having to just listen and nod, act like he wasn’t bothered, act like he wasn’t struggling, like his boyfriend was causing him to struggle._

_But hey. Survival was always his priority. That was good._

_Right?_

 

Being back at classes was going to be the death of him. Of them all. There was a ton more work, and whilst studying for the LSATS, Deceit also had to deal with his new classes. He’d taken a class on advanced criminology, American history and English Language, for reasons beyond his understanding.

(That was a lie, he knew exactly why he’d chosen those subjects.)

Deceit was  also trying again with philosophy, but  apparently he was cursed to have to deal with incompetent  ignorant imbeciles.  Or, rather, that was the only reason he could find to explain why he was being made to listen to two people argue  over whether or not domestic abuse victims could suffer PTSD.

I t was such a stupid “debate” that he had initially assumed the second speaker (loud, brash, hair dyed practically yellow)  was  trying to be a troll. But no.  he was sincere.

I t didn’t help that the first speaker was a nervous boy in a skirt, who looked for all the world like he wished he hadn’t started speaking. Logan and Virgil were exchanging glances, as if trying to determine whether to cut in, and Deceit had had enough.

“Please, PTSD is a war veteran’s illness, or people who have had super bad stuff happen to them,” his classmate argues, “not a bit of yelling from your lover. _My_ girlfriend always goes through my phone and tells me which girls to not talk to. You don’t see me complaining, because it’s fine.”

Deceit  sees Logan and Virgil’s eyes twitch, and he breathes deeply, because the first classmate looks  ready to back off. He was  _not_ going to let this end with “domestic abuse victims aren’t really traumatised”.

“That’s abuse though,” he says bluntly.

T he class falls silent, and the first speaker looks nervous. Deceit can’t help but be concerned, for both of them, so he bites his lip and continues.

“I just...she shouldn’t do that, it’s abuse.”

“Exactly!” the first speaker stutters out.

“Shut up!” the second yells.

The debate ends with no resolution, Deceit loudly interrupting frequently, the teacher unable to do much to stop him.

(“Out of my class!”)

(“No!”)

Deceit lingers before leaving though, reassuring Logan and Virgil he’ll catch up with them.

“If you’re sure...” Virgil doesn’t look convinced, but Logan pulls him gently away.

Deceit sighs, running a hand through his hair. He isn’t convinced he’s doing the right thing, but his classmate had seemed nervous, and he wanted to make sure he was ok. So he waits, until the only people left are him and the classmate who had tried to argue on behalf of domestic abuse victims.

“Are you ok?” Deceit asks, mentally cursing himself for such a _great_ start. _Are you ok? Seriously, did you really just say that?_

The boy jumps. “Oh, uh, yes...um, you’re Deceit, right? ...thanks for your help earlier. I appreciated it.”

Deceit smiles slightly. “It’s, uh, it’s no problem...sorry, I don’t know your name…?”

“Oh, I’m Elliot. They/Them pronouns, please.”

Deceit nods. “Got it. Uh, nice to meet you, Elliot...I, I noticed you seemed really into that debate earlier.”

“So did you.”

A quick reply. Too quick. Deceit recognises that speed, recognises the tone, the suspicious, almost accusatory tone. He knows almost immediately what’s going on.

“Yeah...I, um, I’ve been in an abusive relationship.” It shocks him that he’s managed to say it out loud, to a stranger, but he so desperately wants them to understand.

Elliot stares, before chewing on their lip and looking away. “I’m sorry,” they mumble.

“It’s fine,” he lies, “I...I wanted to check...to see...I mean...you...”

Elliot looks at him carefully, then frowns. “Are you trying to suggest you think I’m in one?”

Deceit breathes in deeply. _4-7-5, was it? Yeah, I think so...4 in, 7 hold, 5 out…_ “I mean, I...no, I just...please, may I give you my number? Just...just in case you need anything...not that you will, but...um, I can give it on a tiny bit of paper, nothing overt...”

He trails off, desperately hoping Elliot will listen, hear him, understand, take his offered support.

Elliot visibly hesitates, but then nods slightly.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, some people really believe only soldiers get PTSD. It's a common myth. Also the Crisis Team is good in theory, but is like...hard to get through to.  
> Also sorry for the time delay!


	17. Calls You Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationships can be tricky, can't they?
> 
> TW: Abuse, descriptions of abuse, self...the word that means putting yourself down. Mild dissociation, non consensual sexual activities in public (not graphic), humiliation, um...just a mess of emotional abuse...nausea, paranoia in regards to believing someone is cheating without any actual reason to think so, abuser is seen quite a bit at the end, manipulation, isolation but not self-isolation, implied threats, some are actual threats, theft.

Elliot turned out to be quite nice, if a little shy and socially awkward. Their social interaction was a little odd, in the way of it being broken and not very consistent, but Deceit understood that. He opted for assuring them that it was ok, that he wasn’t going to judge, and to make jokes about his own lack of consistency.

It seemed to help. Elliot seemed to relax a little, at least, although they were still rather closed off, and seemed reluctant to talk about certain topics. Deceit felt for them. He could understand that, especially if his suspicions were correct.

Dr Picani agrees to keep an eye out on Elliot, which Deceit is thankful for. He doesn’t trust many authority figures, but Dr Picani had shown he was reliable and trustworthy, so he was willing to take a gamble. He just hated that it was with someone else’s life.

Philosophy was better now that he had three people on his side. He was getting better at debates, holding his side, and most importantly, _winning_.

“You’re objectively wrong,” he states when the PTSD topic comes up, “there is no debate here. Soldiers are not the only people to get PTSD, _any_ traumatic event or set of events can cause PTSD. Either learn the basic facts or stay quiet, because I won’t debate facts.”

H e feels  strong, confident, he feels like someone he likes being.

L ogan later hugs him  tight enough that a few months ago Deceit would have freaked out, and kisses his cheek gently.

“You did well,” Logan says proudly, “you’re doing so well.”

D eceit  half whines at the praise,  and they cuddle long into the night,  Deceit  occasionally bringing up other things he’d done well recently  just to hear Logan chuckle and praise him again.

“You know,” Logan points out the next day, “I’ll tell you how well you’re doing whenever you want. You deserve to hear good things.”

“Please tell me then,” Deceit asks, almost shyly, and Logan whispers to him how amazing he is and how amazing he’s doing between kisses to the forehead.

R oman coos at them when he sees them,  with Virgil and Patton teasing them softly about how sweet and cute they are together, until  Logan  calmly throws a pillow at them,  chuckling when Patton squeaks and makes a show of falling to the floor.

“You’ve wounded me!”

“Oh dear.”

“Hey!”

I t’s a good day,  a day where Deceit’ s trauma doesn’t make itself known  all the time. It just sits in the back of his head, pointing out danger or  things to panic about every now and then. He wishes all days could be like this one.

“What are we?” Deceit asks Logan once the others have gone to bed, “I mean...if we’re not dating...”

L ogan hums, tilting his head back for a moment to think. “ I don’t know.  I guess...if we were sims, we’d be in the “romantic interest” stage, if that helps?”

D eceit smirks, shaking his head at Logan’s analogy. “ Got it...”

L ogan presses a kiss to  his cheek, close to the side of his mouth. “ When you’re ready, I’ll be ready too,” he says quietly, “ I just worry  about  you.”

“I appreciate that,” Deceit says quietly, and kisses Logan’s cheek back before slipping his fingers through Logan’s, holding his hand gently, “I’m sorry, though.”

“Why?” Logan seems confused, glancing down at his hand and smiling.

“I...this would be easier for you if I weren’t so...so...” he breathes deeply, “...messed up.”

“You’re not messed up,” Logan corrects, “you have trauma. There’s a difference. And love is never easy. It takes time and work. And you’re worth all the time and work in the world.”

"Love?"

 

“ _You’re not worth my time.”_

_Deceit would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, but he said it anyway. He was a liar, after all, so why not go for it? Insist it didn’t hurt to be brushed off and ignored and made fun of._

“ _Whatever, I don’t care,” he said, “you say that like it’s going to hurt me.”_

_His boyfriend had turned back to him, raising an eyebrow before leaning in and smirking. “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d already be crying,” he’d hissed, and his words had terrified Deceit because they were true._

“ _Please don’t.”_

“ _Did I say I was going to? Don’t put words into my mouth, Dee.”_

“ _I’m sorry.”_

“ _Are you though?” his lover had half sneered, “or are you just saying that so I don’t get annoyed at you?”_

_Deceit didn’t respond, knowing full well which option is true._

 

“I want to go to a fairground,” Roman says one day, and Patton “oo”s at the idea.

“Fairgrounds are dangerous,” Virgil replies, “if things go wrong you can get really badly hurt...”

“Besides,” Logan points out, “you can’t go to a fairground during term time.”

De ceit smiles slightly, before looking back down at his work.  He had never been fond of fairground rides,  though he hated to admit it.  But he’d spent so long trying to avoid going to them with his ex that  he had a particular dislike of them now.

“You two are no fun,” Roman complains, “Deceit will agree with me, right, Deceit?”

D eceit bites his lip,  and sighs. “No, not really. Sorry, I’m not fond of fairground rides.”  A half truth.  That was better than an outright lie, right?

“Ugh...”

“Three against two, princey.”

“But Virgil, think of the date possibilities!”

Deceit zones out, too focused on the _ugh_. He’d disappointed Roman, he’d probably annoyed him or upset him too.

“I mean...” Deceit hesitates, the others looking at him, “I don’t...we could do it, if you really want...”

T o his surprise, Roman shakes his head. “I wouldn’t make any of you do something you didn’t want to. Patton and I can go on our own sometime.”

Deceit tilts his head, and finds himself smiling slightly.  It was nice to have a choice.  It was nice to be reminded of that every now and again. Even if it sucked that he needed that reminder to feel safe.

“I...ok. Thank you.”

 

“ _You make me horny when you dress like that,” his boyfriend said, “you look so good in skirts.”_

_Deceit had blushed, more from humiliation than anything else. The two were at the cinema, sat at the back as per his boyfriend’s request, and it’d been going ok until Logan and Patton from university had appeared, sitting not far off from them. They’d attempted to talk to Dee, and it had become more and more nerve-wracking as time went on._

“ _You said to wear something nice...and I know you said you liked me wearing this skirt...”_

“ _I do...”_

_Deceit froze when he felt a hand on him._

“ _Wait, what are you doing?”_

“ _Shh...just focus on the movie...”_

_Deceit tried to subtly remove his hand. “It was bad enough when you did this with my parents around,” he hissed quietly, “but we’re in public. We could get into serious, legal trouble.”_

_His boyfriend had smirked. “I know, that’s the fun of it. The excitement of whether we get caught or not...c’mon, I just want to make sure your **friends** from university know who you belong to.”_

“ _They’re not my friends.”_

“ _Well, they wouldn’t be if they knew what you were really like...” Deceit winces at a hard touch. “You’re a slut who wears skirts in hopes of their lover getting them off in the back of the cinema.”_

“ _That’s not-”_

“ _That’s what they’ll think if they see though. So let’s stay quiet, and maybe then I’ll let you come, ok?”_

_ D eceit sobbed silently through the whole film,  trying not to make a scene or cry too hard.  He felt disgusting and dirty and  like some common pervert.  It didn’t help his skirt being lifted, the idea that  someone could look over and see him.  He hated it, hated it,  **hated it** . _

“ _Enjoy the movie?” Patton as ked him afterwards, apparently oblivious, “it was so sad at the end!”_

_ D eceit nodded, using it as reason for the tears. “ Yes, it...it was...” _

_ D eceit never dared enter another cinema. Just going past them made his stomach lurch painfully,  and he never wore that skirt again, no matter how much his boyfriend wanted him to. _

 

“I was thinking of getting a piercing,” Deceit says casually, checking Logan for a reaction. But his...romantic interest...just nods. “What sort?” he asks.

“Oh...um, like...a lip piercing, maybe...or maybe a helix or something...”

Logan looks up and smiles. “Both of those would look lovely on you. Hey, Virgil, know any good piercing shops? Deceit’s thinking of getting one.”

His support surprised him, even more so when Virgil took his work stuff over to them and started discussing places whilst writing.

“Why a piercing?” he asks about half way through, “you never seemed the type.”

Deceit hesitates, then shrugs. “My ex hated the idea of me getting...anything,” he admits, slow and shy, “even though I didn’t want anything, he...” he breathes deeply, “...he always said I wasn’t allowed. I kind of just...want to do it, just to...just because he said I couldn’t.”

He looks away, face heating up, and Virgil and Logan look at each other for a moment.

“That’s understandable.”

“If you don’t like it, you can remove it. But I’m sure you’ll look...” Logan pauses, trying to find a way to say _like a really hot gothic punk_ without making Deceit uncomfortable, “...pleasantly appealing to the eye.”

Deceit looks up and smiles slightly. “Thanks guys...I think I will sometime...”

 

_Sometimes it was just boring to spend time with his boyfriend. As time had gone by their interests had become more and more different, and Deceit didn’t understand why his boyfriend still wanted someone around when that person had no interest in what he liked._

_Though then again, it wasn’t like Deceit had a choice in the matter. Either he listened or he got hurt. There was only really one option._

_He wanted to call up Virgil, even after all these years, and beg to be allowed to join in with him and his friends. He wanted to stay up late watching Disney movies and bootleg musicals. He wanted to dance and go out on his own and have fun._

_And instead he was stuck with someone who liked to hurt him on a regular basis, unable to really fight back in case of worse abuse._

“ _I was thinking of going to see something at the theatre,” he said one day._

“ _That sounds boring,” was the response._

“ _I was going to go by myself.”_

“ _Why?”_

“ _...Because you don’t like the theatre?”_

“ _Exactly, so why would you want to go? You’d probably just use it as an excuse to go see someone behind my back...”_

_Paranoid. His boyfriend was paranoid. Obsessed with the idea that he couldn’t trust Deceit, that Deceit needed to prove his trustworthiness, over and over again._

_It was exhausting._

“ _I’m sorry, it was just an idea. I won’t.”_

_Exhausting and boring._

 

Deceit has a couple of hours on his own one day a couple weeks into January, during the day, with nothing to do. It’s nice, because he can lie around doing nothing and watch silly shows without the worry that he’s being annoying or a pain or anything.

(And maybe he also writes down a list of lie based theatre puns, but he’s allowed to have strange hobbies.)

However, it’s why the knock at the door annoys him a bit. He checks his phone, seeing no messages, but half the time nobody messages, they just turn up. So he shakes his head, puts it down, and heads over to the door, opening it and starting to talk.

“I didn’t expect-”

“Hello Dee.”

And that makes Deceit freeze, as he looks up and finds himself staring into the bright eyes of his ex-boyfriend, who looks him up and down before raising an eyebrow.

“Mind if I come in?”

He pushes past Deceit before he can say anything, and Dee finds himself simply staring at his abuser, absolutely horrified, but unable to find the words to tell him to leave. So instead.

“Why...why are you...you here?”

His ex shrugs. “I heard you were talking to my new boyfriend,” he says, sitting down, “quit standing by the door, you’re so awkward.”

Deceit hesitates, then slowly shuts the door and walks over slowly, sitting by his ex when prompted to. He hated this. He hated himself. He felt like shit, just doing what he was told. He should be over this. He shouldn’t be facing his abuser after almost three years.

_I didn’t need to do that. Why did I shut the door. So stupid, you’re so stupid. I should have left the house, or told him to leave. God, what the fuck is wrong with you?_

“You’re way too tense...what’s your issue? C’mon, you should feel lucky I didn’t press charges against Patton...” his boyfriend smirks, “though I could still.”

“Please don’t,” Deceit whispers, “please...”

“Relax, I was only _kidding_. You’re so uptight...”

D eceit flinches, looks away, tries to pretend he’s somewhere else, doing something else...anything but being sat next to his abuser  and feeling...feeling like a pet more than a person.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Now, onto what I was saying. You’ve been talking to my boyfriend. You should know I don’t _like_ when people talk to my boyfriend.”

_Boyfriend?_

“I don’t know-”

“We’ve talked before about what happens if people talked to you when we were dating, right? You understand. I can’t have you, you especially, talking to my boyfriend.”

“But I don’t-”

“Shut up. You going to stop or not?”

Deceit doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know who his boyfriend is. But he knows that he’s honest, that he’ll do what he says he’ll do. He’s always made that clear, as well as what things he’d do if someone was talking to his boyfriend for too long. And right now he therefore knows he’s in danger of some kind.

“I...yes...”

I t’s a lie, but one he hopes his ex will  believe.

H is ex smiles and leans back, looking more relaxed suddenly. “Good...I’ve missed you, you’re so  _nice_ ...you know how to make me feel better, and you  always  did your best to not make me angry...” he sighs, “ it’s a shame you left, I felt we were really getting somewhere.”

D eceit doesn’t respond, trying to remember where his phone is,  brain shutting down far too quickly . Could he fake an excuse to get it, then message someone for help? No, excuses would be seen through easily. Maybe he could ask to go to the toilet? No, that was stupid, he wasn’t going to  _ask permission…_

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes!” Deceit says quickly, looking back, “yes, I...I uh...I don’t...think we were getting...anywhere...really...”

“You always were negative,” is the response he receives, “but I still miss you...I really did love you, it broke my heart when you left. I haven’t been the same since.”

“Neither,” mutters Deceit, bitterness in his voice.

“So you understand why I wanted to see you?” The tone of his voice makes it clear he knows they’re referring to different ways of not being the same. “I didn’t expect to, but when Elliot spoke of you...well...I had to take the opportunity...”

“Wait, you’re-”

“What have I said about interrupting me?” his ex snaps, and Deceit flinches back, “you know I hate being interrupted, but you do it anyways. It really frustrates me when you do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Gonna prove it?” He laughs at the expression on Deceit’s face. “I meant, go make me some tea or something. Aren’t I a guest?”

“I...expected you to leave,” Deceit confesses quietly, trying to shrink back further, and at the look on his ex’s face he panics, “but I! I can make tea! Don’t worry!”

He gets up quickly, stumbling over himself running to the kitchen, breathing heavily. This was _not_ something he expected, ever. Or rather, he did once, but not after so long. Though was it really that long? Three years _felt_ long.

He looks around the kitchen, putting the kettle on and trying to remember where his phone was. He could send a message to someone, anyone really. Picani had told him to call the police, but that felt too extreme in his eyes. But if he could get help at least…

As the kettle boils, he freezes, realising his phone was still in the living room. Where his ex was.

“Fuck...”

He gingerly peaks out the kitchen, spying on his ex, who is up and inspecting a framed photograph of Deceit and the others on a shelf. He watches with a sinking heart as his ex then spots his phone, picks it up, and removes the battery before tucking said battery into his pocket.

Deceit sinks down against the wall as the kettle finishes boiling. He had no way to call for help, wasn’t strong enough to force his ex out of the house, doubted asking nicely would work, and nobody was expected back for at least two hours.

He was screwed.

 

He feels the familiar submissive haze start to take over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People do illogical things when afraid, and in my experience you end up kinda conditioned to just do what you're told to do, regardless of whether it's a good idea.


	18. Catch My Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit deals with an "old friend".
> 
> TW: Abuser in person, emotional abuse, descriptions of past abuse, implied past non consensual sexual acts, non consensual kissing, unwanted and non-consensual touching, nausea and vomiting, hair pulling, abuse cycle...just, Deceit's ex is a shitty person. Mentions of weight gain. Implied threats, as in, there are genuine threats in here, but they're the subtle sort that you kinda just...get used to when you're abused.

“What are you doing? Can you seriously not even make tea without me to hold your hand?”

Deceit looks up fearfully at his ex, who looks down at him with something close to a sneer on his face, and slowly stands up, trying to make himself look as small as possible. Every survival skill seems to worm its way back into his head.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling so good,” he half lies, “I’ll get on that.”

He makes the tea quickly, carries it back for his ex, internally cursing himself for, well, everything. How did his ex know where to find him? Why now? Was it really because of Elliot? Shit, why did he never consider that his ex could end up hurting someone else?

“H-Here you go,” he says quietly, offering the tea, “I hope it’s ok...”

His ex takes the cup, sips it slightly and wrinkles his nose. “Too much milk. But it’s fine.” He sips again before putting it down and smiling at Deceit, glancing up and down before settling on eye contact. “Feel free to sit by me. In fact, please do.”

Deceit sits obediently, not liking the way his ex pulls him closer, legs touching, arm around his shoulders. It’s too much, far too much. He has no out, no way of escaping, and he hates it.

“Why are you here?” he dares to ask, and his ex raises an eyebrow, “I-I mean...why did you...want to come see me…?”

“I told you, you’ve been talking to my boyfriend. But also...I admit, I’ve wanted to see you for a while now,” another brilliant smile, so bright, so beautiful, “I’ve missed you.”

Deceit doesn’t know how to reply to that, and instead looks away, desperate to avoid eye contact and that gorgeous smile. His ex just chuckles, and his hand is in his hair, stroking gently, as if no time had passed, as if they were still together.

“It’s been a while...but it’s good to finally see you again. I couldn’t believe it when Elliot mentioned your name, but there’s only so many people who willingly go by _Deceit_ , aren’t there?”

Deceit nods slightly.  He wanted to hate Elliot for mentioning him, but he couldn’t.  He just couldn’t. It wasn’t Elliot’s fault that his boyfriend was... like this.

“Come on, talk to me, I don’t bite...” _Wait for it._ “...well, not often.”

Deceit sees the flash of teeth from the corner of his eyes and winces,  trying not to flinch at memories of teeth sinking into his skin,  painfully and  with every intent to hurt.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s start with...hm...let’s start with why you told Patton I hurt you.”

T he hand in his hair becomes firmer.

 

_Deceit missed how his boyfriend would send him cute love songs with “it made me think of you!” as a message. He wanted to say it was just because the honeymoon phase was gone, but he was also pretty sure his boyfriend just didn’t feel that way about him anymore._

“ _I love you, you know that, right?”_

_He said he loved him, but every action seemed to say different. Didn’t they say that if you were afraid of your partner then something was wrong? Didn’t they say that being scared to sleep around someone was a bad sign?_

_Didn’t they say it was bad to wake up to a hand in your hair and a hand under your clothes, hisses of “wake up” in your ear? Or was that just taken for granted as bad?_

“ _I’m sorry,” Deceit started to say, but there’s lips on his, and he didn’t have a choice in the way he began his day anymore._

 

“I, uh...I...”

He didn’t know how to lie his way out of this one. He was too close, hand in his hair both a threat and a way to keep him still. An arm snakes it’s way around his waist, and he fights the wave of nausea that builds up in his throat.

“Well?”

“I...I’m sorry...”

“It’s not fun to be accused of abusing people, you know,” his ex’s voice is low, “especially when we both know you’re the one with...hurtful tendencies.”

“That’s not true!” Deceit protests, and he flinches at the warning tug on his hair.

“People literally call you Deceit,” is the hissed response, “you’re a liar. You’ve always been a liar, and it hurts people to be lied to. Like all those times you told me you weren’t hurting yourself, only for me to see new cuts and scars-”

“I was afraid of-” Deceit stops himself saying anything more when he feels a more painful tug on his hair, scalp screaming in protest.

“Shut _up_ , Dee,” his ex hisses, “god...I gave you everything I had, and you go behind my back telling people I abused you...”

Deceit tries hard not to cry, tries hard not to say anything in case it angers his ex further.

“Thankfully for you, I’m a nice person,” his ex lets go of his hair slowly, “you know, some people would be _furious_. Some people would want to _really_ hurt you for it. Thankfully for you, I just want an apology.”

Deceit is not stupid. He knows that all his ex means is “apologise or I’ll hurt you”. He knows by now that “feel lucky, some people would X” just means “I’ll do X if you don’t do what I say”.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry, it was...it was wrong of me to say that to them.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

Deceit nods weakly, and watches his ex pick up the cup of tea, sipping slowly and watching Deceit back with eyes far too bright.

“So, who do you live with?”

“...Friends...”

“Details, Dee. Elliot mentioned a Logan, and I know Patton...and I see Virgil in that picture...”

Deceit wants to yell at him to leave them out of this, to leave Virgil alone, to not mention Logan, or Patton, and that he didn’t want to talk about his room mates, just in case.

“...yeah, um...yeah, I live with them...um...you live with Elliot, do you?”

“I wish...” Aha, distracted. “Elliot lives with his friend, for some reason. I keep telling him to move out and live with me, but he insists he doesn’t want to _be a burden_.”

“Sounds like he’s trying to be nice,” Deceit suggests weakly, “Elliot seems sweet.”

His ex looks him in the eye for a bit too long, before removing his arms from Deceit and picking up the tea again, shrugging and sipping slowly.

“Is it true that you’re dating Logan?” The words are too careful, tone too calculated. He doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t want to respond. But something in him screams that he needs to answer, needs to say _something_ , just in case.

Just in case.

“..Sort of...we, we’re not official.”

“I see...” his ex places the cup down, hums, and turns to Deceit. “Probably just as well...I don’t think Logan deserves to have to deal with you.” Deceit bristles. “Besides, nobody could love you like I did. You’re... _lovely_ , but you’re high maintenance.”

“I...Logan says I’m...Logan says he loves me,” Deceit argues weakly.

“Oh? So why aren’t you official yet?”

“...I’m not ready.”

“So you’re making things difficult?”

“I-no!”

“Poor Logan...”

Deceit fights the urge to clutch his head, to beg his ex to stop twisting his words, to beg to just tell him what he wants instead of sitting there smirking at him.

 

_Sometimes Deceit just didn’t speak. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes it made things worse. His boyfriend was unpredictable, and he hated it. What worked one day didn’t the next, and when he hesitantly pointed this out his boyfriend just smiled and said he knew._

“ _You should sleep,” his boyfriend told him one night._

“ _God, you’re always sleeping, stay awake for a bit, would you?” he said the next._

_Of course, the sleep issue was easy. More often than not sleep was punished, so Deceit would just go without it, limiting his sleep as much as possible, until dark bags appeared under his eyes and he had to physically shut his mouth to prevent yawning._

“ _You’re so pretty,” his boyfriend whispered in his ear one day, kissing him gently, “I love you.”_

“ _You ruined my life!” his boyfriend screamed at him the next day, and then, when Deceit tried to apologise or suggest ending things, “shut up, did I say I wanted to end things? No, no I didn’t, so shut up!”_

_That, Deceit didn’t know what to do about. But maybe he was right, maybe Deceit really did ruin things. Maybe he really did ruin lives. Maybe he was just better off-_

“ _-dead!”_

 

“Still, I hope you make yourself useful for him,” his ex continues, “if he has to put up with you then you should at least try make it worth his time.”

_Please stop._ Deceit watches his ex finish the tea and sigh happily before wrapping an arm back around Deceit, squeezing tight around the ribs. “Do you have any biscuits?”

“No...um, usually if anyone wants any, Patton makes them...” he doesn’t know why he feels the need to back up his answer. Well, he does, but he’d rather not think about it.

“Hm...probably just as well, I can see you’ve put on a bit of weight. Giving you biscuits probably isn’t a good idea.”

Deceit looks down at himself, suddenly feeling self  conscious. Had he put on weight? He hadn’t noticed, or cared. Should he care? He watches as his ex rubs his thigh, feels sick at the contact and the motion.

“Relax, sweetie,” his voice is so sickly sweet, “I’m sure Logan doesn’t mind if his boyfriend is fat.”

_Please stop_ .  He keeps rubbing Deceit’s thigh,  and Deceit is pretty sure he must know how uncomfortable it makes him feel.  But he doesn’t stop, so Deceit dares to voice a complaint.

“Please don’t touch my leg like that,” he whispers, and the hand stops moving, bright eyes turning dark and narrow.

“You make it sound like I’m doing something wrong.” _You are_. “Don’t be so paranoid, I’m just being nice.” _I don’t like it._ “Hey, are you listening to me?”

“...Please don’t touch my leg,” Deceit repeats, slowly, quietly and carefully, “I don’t like it.”

His ex grips his leg tight, nails digging in, and Deceit has to cover his mouth to stop himself crying out.

“You don’t like it? I’m _touching your leg_ , Dee, stop overreacting.”

Deceit tries to pull away, alarm bells going off in his head, but the arm wrapped around him keeps him put, and he can’t move. He protests weakly, trying to tell himself that nothing was going to happen but really not believing it.

“Is this how you react whenever Logan tries to hug you?” his ex says finally, “sheesh, I can see why you two aren’t official yet.”

It’s a low blow, and Deceit knows it’s only to catch him off guard, but it _works_. Deceit freezes, and his body seems to go limp, giving into the unwanted touch. His ex places a kiss on his forehead and he doesn’t react, not sure what the point of reacting would be. He was only going to end up worse off if he keeps struggling and resisting, after all.

So he sighs, and lets go, just nodding along to what his ex says. Why bother trying to fight back? Why bother at all?

 

_Deceit wanted to dance. He loved to dance. He loved music in general, really. He wanted to spin and twirl and embrace the tune. His boyfriend? Less so._

“ _You’re an awful dancer, why do you bother?” he asked, almost bitter, “and no, I’m not dancing with you, so don’t bother asking.”_

_Deceit couldn’t do any of the things he enjoyed without ridicule. Whether he painted or sang or danced or discussed topics of interest, it was always wrong, always laughed at, always criticised. So he gave up. He was too tired to fight it any more, he was too tired to be told what a waste his hobbies were._

“ _If you loved me you’d spend less time drawing and more time talking to me,” his boyfriend hissed, “but you don’t, do you?”_

“ _I do love you, I do,” Deceit replied, and it was as honest as he could be, because he couldn’t help but love this man._

_Or, at least, the man he was, the man Deceit thought he would be._

“ _Prove it,” he hissed, “prove that you love me, cause I don’t believe it.”_

_To anyone else, Deceit would have warned them. Told them that you should never have to prove your love of someone, especially not how he was expected to. But he didn’t have anyone else, didn’t see a way out of it, and didn’t know what would happen if he said no._

_So he “proved” it, time and time again, and hated it and himself every time._

 

“You’re nicer than Elliot,” his ex says suddenly, and Deceit tunes back in, not sure what he missed, “Elliot doesn’t listen to me like you do...he’d still be trying to push me off or some shit at this point...”

“I uh...” Deceit doesn’t know how to respond, “...I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s annoying...I hate when people don’t listen to me...it’s like living with my parents,” his ex mutters, looking irritated, “Logan’s lucky to have such a good listener as a boyfriend.”

Deceit smiles weakly, once again extremely uncomfortable. He hates having Logan mentioned. Logan’s name doesn’t deserve to be said by this man. Logan is everything good in the world, and this man is everything Deceit fears.

Another kiss to the forehead. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel...not good at all so far today,” his ex says, slowly, “I’ve been a little stressed lately. Had some fights with Elliot and all that...I don’t mean to upset you.”

“You haven’t,” Deceit lies, “it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so sweet...” Another kiss to the forehead, so gentle, and it only confuses Deceit more when his ex proceeds to talk about movies and music for the next half an hour, holding Deceit close throughout and gently stroking his leg with his spare hand.

It’s so soft, and everything he wasn’t expecting.

His ex looks at the time suddenly and sighs. “It seems I need to go...” he stands up, stretching for a moment before looking down at Dee, “I’ll be sure to see you again sometime, ok? Again, I’m sorry for the...rough start there, just...stressed...”

Deceit isn’t sure how to react, and then his head is being pulled up gently by the chin, and lips press to his for a brief second. He can’t help but freeze, and by the time he realises his ex still has his phone battery in his pocket he’s half way out the door, blowing a kiss and leaving quickly.

And Deceit wants to say none of it made sense, but it _did_.

But then the kiss and the door slam echo through his mind, and suddenly he’s running to the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet and sobbing as the past comes rushing back through his head.

 

_A rough kiss was on his lips before he could protest, before he could say he wasn’t in the mood. Hands on his hips, keeping him still, keeping him pressed to the sofa. Deceit wanted to protest, but it didn’t matter. If he protested, it’d be taken as a challenge, or worse._

_He tried to keep it to just kissing, he really did. Did he not try hard enough? Was that his problem? His fingers curled into the sofa, feeling the squish of the cushion and the soft fabric squeezed between his fingers._

_Maybe he’d remember the fabric all his life, but he hoped not._

_He could remember them even now though._

 

Logan and Patton know something’s wrong the moment they walk in, seeing Deceit curled up on the sofa, shaking like mad and paler than ever.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asks, hurrying over and crouching by Deceit.

Logan goes to sit by Dee, but he flinches away, and Logan decides to give him a bit of space instead before asking what happened.

“...My ex,” Deceit whispers, “...he...he turned up...”

Patton inhales quickly to stop himself yelling, and Logan’s eyes widen.

“What? Dee, are you ok? Are you hurt? What happened?” he half pleads for an answer, hoping that Deceit isn’t injured in any way.

Deceit sniffs, looking up at Logan for a moment, before looking away and shrugging slightly.

“Dee, please...”

Deceit hesitates, but slowly sits upright, not daring to make eye contact with either of the two. He should probably tell them. If nothing else, he didn’t have it in him to lie or avoid their questions right now. So slowly he explains what happened, with the exception of the hand on the leg detail.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Patton asks him afterwards, looking concerned.

“I’m fine.” Deceit half lies, tiredness in his voice, “he...he ended up just talking before he left...but he left with my phone battery, so my phone’s dead now...”

Logan and Patton exchange glances before Logan sighs. “You know, you should go to the police, as much as I hate suggesting it,” he says quietly.

“No,” Deceit shakes his head, “no, I’m not doing that.”

“Dee, you _need_ to go to the police,” Logan insists, “he forced his way in, he could have hurt you...he-”

“Oh, _shut up_ , Logan!” Deceit snaps, and immediately freezes, covering his mouth, “shit shit no, I-”

“Deceit…?” There’s hurt in Logan’s eyes, and it’s too much. He didn’t mean to hurt him, didn’t want to hurt him, how is he any better than his ex if he hurts Logan like this?

“Ok, let’s not get worked up,” Patton says quickly, but Deceit is spiralling.

_Maybe he was right. Nobody else can deal with me, nobody else deserves to have to deal with me._

“Dee...” He sees Logan reach out, and pulls away quickly. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t going to let himself hurt anyone, but especially not Logan. So he shakes his head weakly, not daring to meet Logan’s eyes.

“I...I’m sorry, Logan.”

He gets up and is out the front door before anyone has time to say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was rewritten like, three times fully...anyhow, um, next chapter is planned mostly, I just gotta write it...  
> Also, if anyone tells you that you need to "prove" how much you love them? Run.  
> And if anyone tells you "you're lucky I'm nice or else I'd do x", then yes, they really are saying "do what I say or that's what I'm going to do". Don't be fooled, take it from someone who knows. "If I wasn't so nice I'd hit you" just means "I want to hit you and I will if you don't do what I say". It's a threat in disguise.  
> Life advice.


	19. The Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can hear me, right?

“I thought you’d be here.”

Deceit looks up, eyes wet with tears, seeing Logan hopping over a stone to walk over to him. He didn’t understand why. Logan should hate him, should want nothing to do with him. He’d snapped at him, told him to shut up…

Logan sits beside him, and offers a tissue, which Deceit hesitates before taking.

_Not that I deserve it…_

“How’d you find me?” he whispers, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose.

“You told me you felt safe amongst trees,” Logan says simply, “seemed only logical to find you surrounded by trees. It was that or the abandoned buildings you and Remy visit, but this seemed more likely right now.”

“I see...” Deceit sniffs, “why’d you come find me though? I...I told you...to shut up...”

“Yes, you did,” Logan looks unimpressed for a moment, but softens quickly, “I’m not angry with you. I’m more concerned with your habit of running off.”

“I...” Deceit finds tears welling up in his eyes again, “I’m so so sorry- it doesn’t excuse it I know- I’m still so sorry, Logan, I didn’t...I never wanted to hurt you or upset you or, or... _anything_...and I did and I hate it and I’m so so _sorry_...”

“I forgive you.” Logan says it firmly, matter of fact, and it only makes Deceit cry harder.

“No – stop – please, you can’t, ok? I told myself I wouldn’t lash out at people, but especially you, and...and...and I _did_...” he sobs, burying his face into his hands, “I’m a shitty person and I really like you and I’ve ruined it by being a shitty shitty person!”

Logan watches for a few moments as Deceit sobs, trying to think of how to respond. This would be easier if not for his emotional attachment to the issue at hand…

“No, stop,” he tells Deceit, “I forgive you. You apologised, and I accept it and forgive you. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But I do,” Deceit insists, sobbing harder, “what sort of boyfriend am I going to make if I act like...like _him?”_

Logan shakes his head. “You’re not. You wouldn’t be reacting like this if you were. Making a mistake, especially in times of high stress, is natural. You’ve apologised, and it’s fine now. Ok?”

Deceit wants to argue, but Logan makes it sound simple, makes it sound like he’s not secretly an awful person, like he’s wrong about himself. And besides, he...really doesn’t want to argue.

“...alright...”

“There...now, about today. How can I help?”

 

_Isn’t there meant to be a flashback here?_

_Isn’t there meant to be past pains resurfacing here?_

_Isn’t there meant to be...something here?_

_Am I imagining it?_

_Can...Can you hear me?_

 

“...You can’t,” Deceit admits, “I mean...I don’t know what to do...or...anything…god, I feel so...hopeless, you know? Look at me, I’m...I’m nothing, just some...some... _ugh!”_

“It’s okay. Just talk to me. I don’t mind what you have to say, I just want to know what you have to say.”

Deceit rolls his eyes, but he sees Logan smile, and maybe it’s worth...saying something.

 

_You can._

_I mean, you can hear me, right? It’s like you’re listening in. Or...no, not listening._

_I can feel your eyes on me, you know._

_You want to know what’s happening in my head, right?_

_Want to know what he did to me?_

_I can’t talk about the past right now._

_Not when the past was just today._

 

“...I don’t feel like...like I do enough for you...” Deceit sighs, “...I don’t know what you want from me. I mean...do you want me to kiss you? Or...or...or are you expecting...m-more…? I mean...you can’t really just want me to.. _be_...”

Logan frowns, thinking it through. He supposed he could understand. Deceit had spent a while being told exactly what was expected and what he should do. His ex clearly had a very unhealthy amount of control over Deceit, and now Deceit struggled with, to be frank, thinking for himself. And Logan wasn’t really sure what to do about that. But for now…

“I want...I want you to be honest with me,” he says carefully, “I’m not going to lie, I would very much like to kiss you, or...engage in...typical romantic activities. But I don’t _expect_ it from you.”

“But...” Deceit looks flat out confused, “...Logan, I...I hate it but...but...I keep expecting...I keep expecting you to hurt me or something...and I _hate_ that because I _know_ you’re not like that...”

Logan nods. “I understand. But that’s ok, Dee. You’re scared, and you don’t have positive experiences in relationships to look back on. Of course you’re going to feel this way. Especially after today.”

Deceit sniffs, and nods slightly. “...I hate that he kissed me today,” he whispers, curling up tightly, “I really...really thought it was all over...but it’s never over, is it?”

“...We’ll work it out,” Logan says simply, “maybe we can get something done with Elliot’s help. Right now though, we need to focus on making sure you’re ok.”

“But...Elliot...”

“We’ll keep an eye on him. And we’ll check he’s ok tomorrow in class, ok?”

“...ok...”

“See?” Logan smiles, “everything will be ok. And right now, we’re going to focus on you, and making you feel safe again.”

Deceit sniffs again, wiping his eyes and sighing, thoughts of earlier still playing in his head, taunting him, questioning him. “...but, are you sure you don’t want anything from me? I...I can be useful, I can be good...please, you can do anything to me, just-”

“I’m sure. I...I don’t want or need you to be... _useful_ or _good_. And I’m not doing anything to you that you don’t want and ask for.”

Deceit blushes slightly at the thought of _asking_ for...things. Maybe he could ask for a kiss? Maybe that would be ok...Logan couldn’t be too annoyed at that, right? He knew Logan wanted to be kissed...he knew _he_ wanted to kiss…

“Alright,” is his answer, before resting against Logan, closing his eyes, “thank you, Logan.”

 

_You’re still listening, aren’t you? You’re still reading._

_Why? I don’t understand. You know so much about me, but why? How?_

_I don’t know when my memories were put on show for you all._

_How many of you are there? Who are you?_

_How many of you are just like me?_

_Oh, I get it now._

 

“You need to stop running off though,” Logan says gently, “I get that it’s hard to...face feelings, sometimes...but it’s not helping you.”

Deceit sighs. “...you’re right,” he admits, “...sorry, I...I’ll try...”

Logan kisses his cheek gently. “That’s all I ask. I believe in you.”

Deceit blushes, but smiles, soft and shy. “...We should go home,” he mumbles, “let...let people know I didn’t die or anything...and I should apologise...”

“Don’t worry, they’ll understand.”

 

_I want to stop it, I want to stop it all._

_Are you even listening to that part?_

_I thought you were listening to me, to know what he did, to know what I went through, to know who I was, what happened._

_Maybe some of you are._

_I think some of you want to know what I’m doing next._

_I don’t know._

_One moment, let me finish this chapter…_

_Chapter?_

_Sorry, for a moment there, I thought I was writing._

_How odd._

 

“Hey, Logan...”

“Yes?”

Deceit hesitates, and swallows nervously before half whispering, “may I kiss you? Like...properly?”

It’s terrifying to ask. It’s terrifying to let himself be vulnerable, to voice what he wants, to ask for affection and know he might get it. But Logan smiles, wide and yet so soft. Brighter than any smile his ex could give.

“If you’re ok with that...then yes, I’d love you to.”

Deceit hesitates, then pulls Logan close and kisses him, the taste of something herbal and sweet on his lips, soft but chapped at the corners. Logan kisses him back, hands gentle on Deceit’s cheeks, trying hard not to kiss him more, just in case it causes upset.

Deceit _wants_ to kiss him more, to maybe push him down and kiss him and make out and whisper sweet nothings. Or maybe to _be_ pushed down and told how well he’s doing whilst being kissed and making out and having it be soft and loving and everything he wants.

But instead he pulls away, knowing he’s not quite ready for that. The kiss alone leaves him shaking, and he loves it, loves knowing he can think of a kiss from someone who cares for him rather than kisses from someone who-

He tries not to go down that route, instead looking at Logan, who looks a little dazed and yet so blissful. Part of him says _yes, you’ve made him happy, see? You’re useful when you try._ But he pushes that part down, deep away, focusing on how happy _he_ feels, lips still feeling tingly, remembering the way Logan’s lips moved.

“You’re...perfect,” Logan says suddenly, and Deceit doesn’t protest to being pulled close for a cuddle, “you’re perfect, Dee, I hope you know that.”

Deceit is doubtful, but he doesn’t say it, instead clinging to Logan and the knowledge that despite everything that’s happened today, he managed a kiss without a panic attack or flashback.

Maybe things would be ok some day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and odd chapter, but I wanted this conversation/random bit to come before the next portion of the fic :3


	20. Off With Her Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Deceit are a soft couple working out how things between them are working, with Deceit's history in mind. Meanwhile, Deceit tries to talk to Elliot about their relationship. Elliot may not be being hit, but emotional abuse is still serious, and Deceit is determined to help them.
> 
> Warnings: Mention of rape and physical abuse, emotional abuse, appearance of abuser, denial, purposeful misgendering and transphobia, flashbacks, panic attacks, gaslighting I think, age regression, Virgil wants to kill his ex, crying, vandalism, implied parental issues, food mention, talk of sex and boundaries in relationships (nothing happens! Deceit is just worried and Logan manages to put his fears to rest).

_Dear Me,_

_I’m think I’m-_

_Dear Me,_

_I think-_

_Dear Me,_

_It’s not going to be okay any time soon._

 

“I don’t think Elliot is going to want to talk to me,” Deceit mutters, shuffling closer to Logan, “do we have to go to class? We could go to a cafe, have a nice date together...”

“As lovely as that sounds, we need to graduate,” Logan points out, “and besides, you’re the best suited to talk to him. You’ll know what he’s going through.”

“Not necessarily...”

“More than the rest of us.” Logan kisses Deceit on the forehead, “and you’re cold...this is what happens when you go out in this weather without a scarf and coat.”

Virgil makes a vague sick noise, muttering about how “disgustingly domestic” they are, whilst Remy steals Deceit’s coffee.

“We’re not disgustingly domestic,” Deceit complains softly, “right, Logan?”

“I fear any response I give is going to give Virgil more reason to say we are.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, trying not to smile at the soft interactions. It’d been two days since Deceit had run off, and although he was definitely shaken by the experience of meeting his ex, he seemed happy about being cute with Logan, and that made Virgil happy.

“We have to go,” Logan points out, “time for class. Deceit, you still up for talking to Elliot?”

He’s not, but he nods nonetheless. He feels obligated, he feels he _has_ to let Elliot know, whether to warn or inform, he’s not sure yet. But it has to happen.

In philosophy Elliot is quiet, and Deceit tries to be loud, but every time an answer is shot back at him he feels the echoes of the past, and suddenly he’s silent and sitting down again.

It wasn’t _fair_.

He had things to say.

He _deserved_ to say those things.

He keeps going to open his mouth, to blurt it all out, but nothing comes, and instead he’s trying not to lean into Logan’s embrace, watching the world pass by.

He’s so sure he can hear his ex taunting him, whispering to him how useless he is, how he’ll never accomplish anything, how stupid he is to even try.

Maybe he cries a little, wiping his eyes too much and claiming hay-fever despite the fact that it’s still January.

However, at the end he separates and goes over to Elliot.

“I need to speak to you,” he explains, “it’s about your boyfriend.”

Elliot’s eyes widen. “Did he do something?” they whisper, “if so, I...I’m so sorry...I really, I mean, I tried...he wanted to know where you lived, and I...I’m sorry, I was scared, he freaked me out too much, I mean...”

“I-It’s fine!” Deceit says quickly, “I...nothing happened...I, um...”

He doesn’t want to keep lying.

“Elliot, I’m concerned for you,” he explains finally, “he’s going to hurt you if you stay with him, trust me on that.”

“What? No way,” Elliot laughs weakly, “he’s not like _that_. He’s just a bit...a bit intimidating at times, you know?”

Deceit groans, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, and that’s what _I_ thought at first,” he explains, “and then he beat me and raped me. Don’t you understand? Give him enough time and he’ll be the death of you.”

Elliot hesitates, and then their eyes widen, and Deceit turns to see his ex walking in.

“Finally, Elliot, I thought we were going to meet outside the library?” his tone is icy, “but I see you were talking with...my ex.”

Elliot goes to speak, fumbling over words, and Deceit decides to take the fall.

“You misunderstand,” he says, as convincingly as he can muster, “it’s my fault, I was trying to talk to Elliot. I wasn’t listening when Elliot told me to go away.”

His ex raises an eyebrow. “Well, at least he can be loyal,” he mutters.

“They.”

“Excuse me?”

“Elliot is non-binary.”

And his ex just sighs, before making eye contact with Deceit, eyes sharp and as dangerous as ever, making Deceit want to recoil and throw up.

“There’s no such thing. And you should really stop correcting me all the time, you _know_ how it makes me feel.”

And then Elliot is leaving with his ex, and Deceit is thrown back into a flashback once again, curling up on the floor sobbing.

 

_Dear Me,_

_It’s not going to be okay any time soon. But you already know that, right?_

_No, let’s try that again…_

_Dear Me,_

_It’s not going to be okay any time soon. And you don’t know that yet._

_That’s better._

 

Deceit isn’t so keen on being touched that night, or the next few days following. And the others understand, giving him some distance. Logan is careful to keep an eye on him, making sure he doesn’t go to hurt himself any further.

Mostly Deceit just feels empty. Numb. A blank slate. He can’t bring himself to feel anything but fear, a constant fight or flight reflex.

Patton drops a plate and he screams, falling off the sofa and sobbing uncontrollably as Logan and Virgil try to comfort him.

Virgil raises his voice in Mario Kart, and he’s fleeing the room, dragging Logan with him and causing his sort of boyfriend to lose the race.

“Do you need me?” Logan asks softly, wrapping a blanket around Deceit gently.

“Needed you safe,” Deceit mumbles, snuggling into the blanket.

He manages to calm, eventually, settling down and spending a full day latching onto the closest person.

He wakes up and latches onto Patton whilst he makes breakfast.

He latches onto Roman when Roman says he has no morning classes.

Virgil comes home from class and he latches onto Virgil.

And he spends the evening and night clinging to Logan.

“You realise your ex is lucky to be alive?” Virgil comments, seeing Deceit working out the best position.

“Guess so,” Deceit mumbles, smiling slightly and deciding to sit on Logan’s lap, head leaning against his chest to listen to his heart beat, “alright, I’m good now.”

“That’s good,” Logan smirks, “I mean, it’s great that you want to sit with me, but you’re very wriggly when you’re not comfortable.”

Deceit hesitates, then sticks his tongue out, blowing a raspberry before attempting to look a bit more elegant.

“Dee, I’ve seen you with half a mohawk,” Virgil points out, “you will never be the elegant Victorian Goth in my eyes, no matter how hard you try.”

“Half a-”

“Virgil you promised we wouldn’t talk about that!”

“And _you_ promised you wouldn’t talk about my tongue piercing.”

“Oh please, the magnet was _funny_.”

“Not to me!”

Logan smiles, watching the two bicker, and feeling relieved that Deceit was coping with the events of the past few days.

“I think it sounds cute,” he teases, kissing Deceit’s cheek, “and I wish to see a photo.”

Deceit blushes.

“I hate you,” he lies.

 

_Dear Me,_

_It’s not going to be okay any time soon. And you don’t know that yet. I don’t know when it’s going to be okay either. I’ll keep you posted-_

_That’s too casual._

_Fuck._

_Dear. Me._

 

Deceit tries again with Elliot, and again, and again, until he’s crying to Remy about how little difference he’s making.

“It’s okay,” they tell him, “you’re there ready for when they’re ready, and that’s enough for now.”

Deceit sniffs and nods, and Remy encourages him to spray paint his feelings onto their dad’s car once again, which always makes Deceit chuckle.

“He _knows_ it’s me,” Remy explains, “but he has no proof, and hence, it’s tough shit.”

Whether it was vandalising places with Remy, baking with Patton, playing games with Virgil and Roman, or going on sort of dates with Logan, Deceit could believe life was looking up, despite his ex looming in the background.

“Is this a date?” he asks Logan one day, “and...are we, actually boyfriends now?”

Logan blinks, hums, and then smiles, letting him know that they can be if Deceit wants.

“Please...” Deceit almost blushes, and has to adjust his collar to keep up his “elegant” persona, “I would like that.”

And Logan leans over the table and kisses his forehead.

“Then I appear to have gained a gorgeous boyfriend.”

“You can’t say that and then not kiss me, Logan.”

“I did.”

“On the lips, Logan. You can’t say that and then not kiss me on the lips.”

Logan smirks, leans over again and kisses Deceit, slow and gentle and not pulling away until he identifies exactly the taste of his lips.

“Peppermint,” he murmurs, “you taste of peppermint.”

“I had peppermint tea,” Deceit points out, blushing as Logan smiles, “I mean, I imagine that’s...why...”

“A well thought out conclusion.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_We keep repeating ourselves. Why do we even bother. Let’s just stop this and go do something before Virgil asks us what’s taking so long and we have to tell him we can’t even write a damn letter._

 

“You look happy with Logan,” Elliot says quietly one day late in January, “he...he treats you well, doesn’t he?”

Deceit nods, replying just as quietly. “He does...he’s...really good.”

Elliot nods and sighs.

“I’m happy for you,” they say simply, and then leaves the class with everyone else.

“We’ll work this out,” Logan reassures Deceit, “come on, let’s go study. Your LSATs are coming up soon.”

Deceit groans, thrown back into the typical life of a university student.

“Fuck the LSATs, I’m going to yeet myself to the moon,” he mutters, and Logan pauses.

“...Did...did you _actually_ just say...yeet…?”

“Yup.”

“...What has Virgil _done_ to you?”

Deceit cackles and walks off to the library, Logan following shortly behind explaining why he should use “normal English” instead of memes.

“You only say that because you don’t understand them,” Deceit says with a smirk, then more softly, “sorry, I, uh...I’m sorry, I didn’t...I...”

Logan catches him before the panic settles in, gently placing a hand on his forearm.

“It’s okay, Dee. I understand what you’re saying,” he smiles, watching Deceit visibly relax, “but right now you need to study for your LSATs.”

“I’d rather we just sit and kiss,” Deceit mutters, not expecting Logan to hear.

“We can do that _afterwards_ , if you want.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_Dr Picani insists I should do this. All because I mentioned Dear Evan Hansen. He says talking to my past self might help or something._

_I don’t understand why though. You’re in the past, it doesn’t matter what I say. We’ll make the same mistakes, love the same person, be hurt by the same person. Me writing this doesn’t change a god damn a single thing._

_I’m sorry, this just feels ridiculous, and if I didn’t promise my present self I’d try I wouldn’t be doing this to begin with._

 

Deceit knows he shouldn’t have tried to run before he could walk. But damn it, he had just wanted to make out with his boyfriend. He wanted to kiss him until his lips tingled, kiss him until he was tired and out of breath, but instead he kisses him and feels the past settle in his head again.

He cries for an hour and a half, ashamed and embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Logan reassures him, “you just need to take your time.”

“But I don’t _want_ to take my time,” Deceit wails, “I want to kiss you! I want _you!_ And I don’t want to risk panic and flashbacks in order to do that! It’s not fair! It’s! Not! Fair!”

His mind goes fuzzy, and all he can think is to wail and throw a tantrum and maybe cling to someone and watch cartoons.

“It’s not fair! Not fair!” he yells, sobbing and throwing himself back on the floor, feeling childish but not sure how to stop it.

“Deceit-”

“Not!! Fair!!”

Logan calls the others to help, and Patton takes over, folding his arms and waiting for Deceit to stop, tiring himself out.

“Not fair,” Deceit sniffs, and Patton crouches down, kissing his forehead and stroking his hair.

“I know it’s not,” he agrees, not fully knowing the context but going with it, “would you like to go downstairs with us and have ice cream? I can find you a choccy biscuit too!”

Deceit sniffs, then hesitantly nods.

“Want choccy biscuit,” he mumbles, unable to shake the childish state of mind.

“Let’s go then.”

When Deceit is settled, curled up on the sofa with ice cream and cartoons playing, Patton explains that he thinks Deceit age regressed.

“Isn’t that a kink?” Roman asks dubiously, and Patton shakes his head.

“No, it’s a coping mechanism. It’s common in people with trauma,” he explains, “I imagine he just felt particularly stressed over the kissing flashback, and so his mind went back to a period of time where kissing and his ex weren’t an issue.”

Sure enough, Deceit slowly comes back, looking flustered and embarrassed all over again, but accepting the cuddles his friends cram onto the sofa to give him.

“I’m sorry about that...” he looks at Logan, “I know that...wasn’t how you wanted...how we wanted...it to end.”

Logan smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I understand. Just take it slow, alright?”

“Besides!” Patton grins, “you made a cute kid!”

Deceit goes red, and only goes redder when Virgil pipes up.

“You say that, but you didn’t see the nutter he was when he _was_ a kid-”

“Virgil, shut up!”

“Hey, you told them about-”

“Do you two have to bicker _all_ the time?”

 

_Dear Me,_

_I think today ended well. I mean, sure, the flashbacks sucked, but Logan and I went out for lunch, and that felt good. He seems to really care about me. About...us. I’m kinda scared, but, uh, I think it’s going to be okay?_

_I mean, not for a while, especially for you, but...maybe._

 

Deceit and Logan go for their respective exams. Logan certainly has more at stake, doing both a scholarship exam and his pre-med exams, but Deceit is just as anxious.

The exam is stressful, and Deceit breathes carefully throughout, determined to manage this, determined to be okay.

Afterwards he and Logan head home, chatting and complaining about the exams, both extremely worried about the results.

The others are there to reassure them. Remy and Roman give them cards, handmade with love, and Patton offers cookies, whilst Virgil hugs them both tightly.

“Want to watch Disney?” Virgil asks, smiling, “I was thinking Big Hero 6 and Tangled?”

Deceit and Logan are happy with this, everyone collapsing onto the sofa, squishing together and laughing whenever someone inevitably falls off.

Deceit is still awake long after everyone falls asleep, scattered across the room, Tangled still playing in the background.

“Are you awake?”

He pauses, and turns to see Logan smiling softly at him.

“I am,” Deceit hesitates, “...are you okay?”

Logan nods.

“I am. I wanted to check on you. And...ask if we could cuddle...”

Deceit recoils slightly, tensing up, and Logan shakes his head quickly.

“It’s okay if you say no,” he says, sincere, “and it would just be cuddling. I...appreciate your presence.”

Deceit smiles slightly, chuckling and carefully, so slowly, uncoiling himself. He shuffles close to Logan and the pair awkwardly shuffle their limbs around to work out an acceptable position.

In the end, Logan rests his head against Deceit’s chest, Deceit’s arms lazily drooping over Logan’s body, sighing at the warmth and the solidity. Logan’s legs interlock with his, and they’re silent for a bit.

“Are you sure you just want to cuddle?” Deceit asks, a little nervous, certain that Logan will want more.

“I’m sure,” Logan replies, calm and firm and still so gentle.

“You...don’t want...uh...”

“If ever I want more, I will ask your permission outright,” Logan tells him, looking up, “for example, I would like a kiss. May I kiss you?”

Deceit chuckles and kisses him first, loving the way Logan’s eyes light up every time.

“I just worry I’m going to annoy you by only kissing,” Deceit admits, “I...don’t know how slow or fast you want to take things...”

It’s not necessarily the best time or place for the conversation, but Deceit’s life has outright ignored time and place for a good few years, so why start now?”

Logan shrugs. “How slow or fast do you want to take things?”

“...Slow,” Deceit admits, “...I like you, but...but I’m scared...I don’t think I’ll be ready for anything for a while.”

“Then we’ll take it slow,” Logan says, almost official in tone, “don’t worry. We could go our whole life without doing anything more than kissing and I’d still be happy.”

“But you...”

“If we do more, I will...be very happy.”

Deceit doesn’t comment on the way Logan’s blush covers his cheeks in a deep red.

“But a lack of sex doesn’t make a lack of happiness for me,” Logan explains, “it’s fine. Everything will be okay.”

“...Alright, thank you, Logan.”

“You’re most welcome. Now, shush and go to sleep.”

Deceit chuckles, and pulls Logan closer, allowing himself to fall asleep around others, however uneasy that sleep may be.

 

_Dear Me,_

_Last night I slept with Logan, and he didn’t try to touch me, and he wasn’t angry, and I woke up to him still just cuddling._

_It’s crazy, I know, but I need you to know that it’s going to happen some day, and it’s going to be amazing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Age regression is a thing that sometimes happens to me. It's unlikely to pop up much in this fic, but basically one day after about a year of no ex in my life someone mentioned wanting to kiss me and I just...became a kid. Still happens when stressed, but as such I wanted to show it. It's a perfectly valid way to cope with trauma, or stress in general really.
> 
> (Also, to clarify, Elliot really isn't being physically or sexually abused, but Emotional Abuse is still serious, and those of you suffering it deserve to know that trauma from emotional abuse is 100% valid.)
> 
> Peace out, guys, gals and non-binary pals!


	21. Crystalline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit struggles with his feelings, and also doesn't understand why his ex is so weird and paranoid. He hasn't actually done anything this time!
> 
> TW: Suicidal thoughts, phantom pain, general PTSD symptoms, abuse, abuser is in this in the second half, learned responses, panic, flashbacks, food mention, odd and mildly stalkerish behaviour from Deceit's ex, mention of that time Patton punched Deceit's ex, talk of intrusive thoughts, manipulation, coercion, an attempt at coercing Deceit into non consensual sexual acts, paranoia, descriptions of abuse, mild dissociation, and purposeful misgendering from Deceit's ex (he calls Elliot "he" and refers to him as his boyfriend)

_Dear Me,_

_I think the thing I hate the most is that I feel like I have no personality. I don’t know who I am. I feel like I’m trying to connect who I am with who I was with who I could have been._

_What’s the point of any of it? I feel lost without someone telling me who I am, what to say, what to do, how to dress, everything._

_Everything feels hopeless and I can’t stop wondering if I’d be better off dead._

_Am I?_

 

Dr Picani said that Deceit was doing well, but Deceit wasn’t sure.

Not that he’d say it out loud – he didn’t like to correct people, or tell them they were wrong. He didn’t like to cause doubt, and besides, what if they were angry?

When he gets back home after his classes he feels bruised and beaten. Socialising hurt. He kept trying to explain to people, with varying degrees of success, that whilst part of why he hated to be around others was his fear of them hurting him, an equal part was being hurt _for_ being around them.

“But you won’t be,” Dr Picani had pointed out, “you’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you for socialising any more.”

And Deceit didn’t know how to explain the phantom pains up and down his body that came with doing anything he was once told not to.

He can feel the pain in his fingers from having them twisted for talking to someone in a cafe. He can feel the bruises from suggesting he give someone a birthday card. He can feel fingers and fists and nails and knives, and doesn’t know how to get rid of them.

He can hear the laughter, the sneers, the comments on how he shouldn’t be around people, that he isn’t giving those who matter enough attention. The phantom verbal abuse hurt as much as the phantom pains, and he doesn’t know how to talk about that either.

“You look exhausted,” Roman says, and Deceit jumps, turning to see his friend spread out on the sofa, “did you see your ex again…?”

Deceit shakes his head.

“No, I...” _I just hear him and feel him and_ _sometimes I swear I think in his voice but I know I’m not but I feel like it and it drives me crazy, am I crazy?_ “No, I’m just not feeling so good.”

It’s technically not a lie, but Roman raises an eyebrow and sits upright, patting the spot next to him, watching as Deceit sits beside him obediently.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Roman blinks, and Deceit winces.

“I-I mean...”

“Why are you sorry…?”

Deceit can’t help but fear it’s a trick question, and he finds himself shuffling away.

“Please don’t,” he whispers, and Roman knows it’s a bad day for Deceit.

As much as his actions made no sense to Roman, Roman was aware that Deceit’s responses were learned ones, and that whatever he thought was going to happen based on Roman’s words was very real to him.

“Wait, Deceit,” Roman protests quickly, “let me – I didn’t mean...”

“I’m sorry!!”

Deceit is about ready to panic or cry, or both, but then Roman is backing away, and Deceit pauses, very unsure of what’s going on.

“It’s okay, Dee,” Roman says with a sad smile, distance between them, “I just meant, that _if_ , and only if, you would like to discuss what’s upsetting you, I’m here. You are _not_ obligated, and I swear there’s no second meaning to my words here.”

It’s what Deceit needs to hear, and a moment later Deceit is begging to be hugged, and a moment later from _that_ , he’s snuggled up close to Roman, trying to ignore the fear of Logan suddenly turning up and responding like his ex might.

“Are you comfy?” Roman asks him, and Deceit nods.

“Will Logan mind me being this close to you?” he asks, knowing logically that Logan will just think it sweet, but wanting to be reassured.

“Of course not, don’t worry.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_Sometimes I notice that people say things innocently and I kind of overreact to them._

_The other day Patton asked me what I was doing, and I almost threw my paintbrush out the window. He was only asking, he was so genuinely curious and innocent, but I just panicked._

_My ex only ever asked me what I was doing when I was doing something he didn’t like, so I guess it makes sense, but I still feel bad._

 

“Remy said they saw you in town,” Logan says one day after coming home from university, smiling, “mentioned you were going to paint a galaxy or something?”

Deceit pauses, and instantly starts to formulate excuses in his head, trying to come up with a reason as to why he’d spoken to someone without permission. And oh god what else had Remy said? Shit, this was why he didn’t talk!!

“I mean, maybe,” he blurts out, “if you’re okay with it. I mean, I didn’t really _say_ that, I mean, I really did mean to run it by you first, but you know what Remy’s-”

“Dee, stop.”

Deceit freezes, and he notices the concern in Logan’s eyes as his boyfriend sits beside him.

“I wasn’t trying to worry you,” Logan explains softly, “I was just interested in what you were painting.”

Deceit relaxes slightly, then sighs, internally cursing himself for his panic.

“Sorry, Lo,” he mumbles, and hesitantly wraps his arms around Logan, gently pulling him close to him, “I, I panicked there. Um, I was going to do a big galaxy canvas for Virgil’s birthday. What do you think…?”

Logan smiles, shuffling up close to Deceit.

“I think he’ll like that.” He kisses Deceit’s cheek gently, “and don’t worry about the panic, I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t angry with you.”

“Thank you...” Deceit hesitates before lifting Logan’s head and kissing him, “by the way, Patton wants to make cupcakes later.”

“Chocolate?”

“Vanilla, I think he said.”

“...Let’s ask him for chocolate ones.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_I hate how common some of the things that make me nervous are. Pet names and coffee shops, for example. Everyone and their dog calls people by pet names. I had to tell mum the other day not to call me love. That felt messed up._

_And everyone likes coffee shops. I still don’t know how to explain my anxiety over them, especially not to Logan and Patton..._

 

Deceit is convinced to go shopping with Logan and Patton, who are convinced that the shopping mall on the opposite side of town is the best one to go to.

“I feel like I’m about to get dragged into Hot Topic,” he complains, “this is exactly what outings with Virgil were like when we were younger.”

“What, amazing and fantastic and wholesome and help Logan what adjectives do I use-”

Logan shakes his head and snakes his arm around Deceit’s waist, making him blush.

“Last time I checked, Virgil didn’t ask for tie advice. Or for which ceramic dish would look best with a fish pie being made on it.”

“I’m telling you, we made the right choice,” Patton protests, “I mean, it’s just so cute! And it’s fish shaped! Fish shaped fish pie!”

Logan chuckles and Deceit smiles.

“Well...I guess so...and yes, a fish shaped fish pie is definitely cute. Doesn’t weird me out at all.”

They pause to debate which coffee shop to go to, which Deceit feels painfully nervous about. Every coffee shop was bad news as far as he was concerned. They just filled him with bad feelings and bad memories and he hated it. But his friend and boyfriend wanted to go, so…

In the end they settle down at a nice cosy looking one, all warm tones and a selection of food and drink.

“Can you choose for me?” Deceit asks Logan quietly, “I don’t...feel okay choosing for myself today.”

Logan initially goes to insist, but he doesn’t, knowing how hard it is for Deceit to say these things. It was just a coffee and a snack. He knew what his boyfriend liked, and he could do this for him. If Deceit needed to have things chosen for him today, then, well...Logan could do that, yes.

“Of course.”

“Thank you...”

Logan chooses well – Deceit adores salted caramel, and he’s thrilled to have his favourite sandwiches, hugging Logan tightly and thanking him for the choice.

Patton smiles sadly, wondering why Deceit didn’t feel capable of choosing for himself, but doesn’t comment on that. Instead he talks about how nice the food looks, and how good the coffees smell.

It’s almost okay until Deceit sees someone familiar from the corner of his eye, and his heart stops beating, coming to a standstill as his ex walks over.

“Good afternoon,” Patton and Logan pause, looking up, “nice to see you again, Patton. And you, Dee.”

Deceit cringes back into his seat, and Logan wraps an arm around him protectively.

“Go away,” Logan tells his ex.

“I’m not here for him,” his ex snaps back, and then, smoother and almost softer, “I was here to make sure Patton wasn’t going to hit me again if I ate my lunch nearby.”

“I make no promises,” Patton warns, voice as cold as ice, “leave us alone or I’ll break your-”

Patton pauses, seeing Deceit tense up further.

“Yes?” Deceit’s ex grins, “go on, Patton, tell me more about your violent tendencies.”

“I’m not violent!” Patton protests, “I just don’t like _abusers_.”

“Patton,” Logan murmurs, “stop...”

“But Logan...”

Logan shakes his head and turns to Deceit’s ex.

“We’ll leave you in peace if you leave us in peace,” he says firmly, “got that?”

Deceit’s ex chuckles then shrugs before walking out the shop holding his own coffee, leaving the three of them feeling more than a bit irate and on edge.

“...Are you okay, Dee?” Logan asks, “maybe we should try get a restraining order on him...”

Deceit sniffs, trying to huddle as close as he can to Logan.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, I’m not taking him to court,” he mumbles, “...thanks for standing up to him, you two...”

“You’re welcome,” Logan murmurs, and Patton nods, smiling slightly.

“We’ll work out how to keep him out of your life,” Patton says, “...but yes, you’re welcome.”

Deceit smiles weakly, trying to be hopeful, but can’t bring himself to feel it. If his LSATs went well, he’d be in the same town as his ex for even longer.

It was inevitable they’d run into each other, right?

 

_Dear Me,_

_I don’t actually want to die. It’s more like, I don’t want to be alive sometimes._

_No, not even that...I’d miss my family, I’d miss my friends._

_I just want things to stop. You feel that, right, past me? Everything feels like so much, and it’s so intense, and I hate it. I want everything to stop for a bit. I want to stop feeling._

_I swear, when we started dating him, I never thought I’d end up feeling this way. I can’t stop thinking about him and the past, and it’s always there, and…_

_I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I’m saying any more._

_I hope the others don’t read this one._

 

“I gotta go use the toilet,” Deceit admits, hating interrupting the conversation, and hating the idea of going out and about whilst his ex was potentially still around.

“Want one of us to go with you?” Patton asks softly, putting his sandwich down, “we don’t mind.”

Deceit shakes his head.

“No, thank you,” he forces himself to lie and smile, “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Logan asks, and Deceit nods again, getting up.

“I won’t be long, and I have my phone with me.” _Just in case anything happens._ “Besides...public place, what’s the worst that can happen?”

He forces a laugh, hoping he hasn’t told them about the things that happened in public places, and Patton seems to relax a little. Logan less so.

“Just be careful,” Logan warns, and Patton nods.

Deceit hurries off, skittish and paranoid, looking around as he searches for the toilets. He hated malls. They were huge, and he always got lost. Always had, most likely always will.

He _finally_ finds the toilets, and texts Logan to explain he got lost.

At that moment, he feels a hand grab him and pull him into the disabled toilets. He yells, of course, but nobody’s around to hear, and then there’s a finger over his lips as he realises he’s stuck with his ex, who locks the door.

 

“ _I want you, now,” his boyfriend whispered in his ear, and Deceit shrugged him away._

“ _We’re in public.”_

“ _We could use the disabled-”_

 

Deceit shakes himself from the memory before it can get too bad. He didn’t want the situation to get any worse, after all.

“Shouldn’t you be with your babysitters?” his ex says with a smirk, “I figured you’d be afraid to be on your own. Considering how “traumatised” you apparently are by me.”

Deceit doesn’t know how to respond, but he forces himself to ask him what he wants.

“I wanted to talk,” his ex _lies_ , “ask you how things are, tell you to quit telling Elliot to dump me...honestly, I’d leave you be if you could just stop causing trouble for me.”

“You’re the one who dragged me in here,” Deceit mutters, “I had hoped you’d forget about me after so long...”

“Of course, you think this all about that..” his ex sighs, “come on, Dee. Not everything is about you. Besides, I wouldn’t have to drag you off if you would just talk to me.”

Deceit hesitates, and then there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“I wanted to tell you that I need you to stop texting Elliot.”

“What? I’m not!”

“Don’t _lie_ to me, Deceit. I know you’re texting him, and if you don’t stop then you’re going to make me _upset_. You texting him makes me all anxious and worried and irritable, and then we have to do things like this – you think I _like_ dragging you into toilets just to tell you to stop texting my boyfriend?”

Deceit doesn’t understand. He _hasn’t_ texted Elliot. Sure, they exchanged numbers, but they don’t text. Elliot told him they’d only text in emergencies.

He tries to explain this, but his ex snaps at him to shut up, and he flinches backwards.

“I know you’re trying to make him break up with me,” his ex hisses, “and you need to stop. We broke up years ago, Dee. Coming into my life, trying to convince Elliot I’m abusive and telling him to leave-”

“I don’t know-”

“Shut up!!”

Deceit flinches, and his ex smirks.

“God, look at you...I’m _glad_ we broke up. You’re _pathetic._ You go crying about how mean I am, and then shove yourself back into my life. It’s like you can’t handle being without me.”

“That’s not true!” Deceit protests, so confused and his panic only rising as his confusion does.

“Face it,” his ex sneers, “you can’t handle life _on your own_. You left me and hurried off to your new _friends_ , and now you’ve got Patton and Logan to fight your battles for you. You’re pitiful, you’re weak, and you are _still_ nothing without me.”

E very word is like a blow,  and he recoils more each time, until he’s shaking and  willing to beg to not be hurt all over again.  Willing to do anything  to survive.

“I’m sorry!” he cries out, “please, I’m sorry! I-I...I...”

He stumbles over his words,  watching his ex’s face switch through different expressions and emotions, before landing on one that’s almost smug.

“You’re pathetic,” he murmurs again, and places a hand over Deceit’s facial scar, “but at least you know how to apologise. Right?”

D eceit tenses up,  knowing what he means but equally desperately want ing  to be wrong, and the two stay locked in eye contact until Deceit  starts to crumble, bowing his head and nodding slightly.

“Yes...I...I do...”

“Well? Are you going to?”

“H-Here?”

H is only answer is a smirk,  and  just as Deceit is about to sink to his knees he pauses, thinking of all the times he’s seen that smirk.  All the times he’s apologised when he hasn’t been in the wrong.  All the times  he’s been pushed and persuaded  into doing things he doesn’t want to do.

A ll the damn times he’s looked up and seen that smirk through his tears.

“...No.”

He forces himself to remain upright, not daring to do anything or say anything else, not even sure if he has it in him to make a run for it.

“Excuse me?”

Crying in the bedroom late at night because he’s been beaten and hit yet again. Washing out his mouth to get the bitter aftertaste out. Lying frozen and afraid because he’s woken up to horror yet again. Being insulted and yelled at and flinching at every warning offered.

“I...I said no.”

P ushed down and  hair pulled and  slapped and  nails digging into soft broken skin  and bleeding and crying and  begging for it to stop.

“What, you’re not even going to bother apologising? God, how do your friends even put up with you when you’re this rude? How does _Logan_ put up with you?”

There’s hands on his  shoulders, pressuring him to get down,  words jabbing at every weak point Deceit has,  and he  doesn’t want to fight.  He’s so sick of fighting.  He’s so sick of  losing.  He’s just fed up and sick and tired and  he doesn’t know what year it is or what day, or even where he is.

“Leave my boyfriend out of this,” Deceit snaps nonetheless, clinging onto the knowledge that whatever year it may be, there’s only one person he wants to be dating, “this has nothing to do with him, and...and...”

_Did I just...snap at him…?_

_Did I just…_

“If you bring my boyfriend into things then I’m bringing yours into it,” is his ex’s reply, so familiar in stubbornness and petty logic.

Deceit goes to argue, but the fight feels drained from him. He swears he’s been fighting for far too long. He just wants to give up. He just wants to...not have to worry.

“Deceit?” A hand on his scar again, so gentle. “Deceit, look...I’m sorry, maybe I overreacted...” Too gentle. “I just miss you...all this trouble with Elliot makes me think of you, but sometimes you’re just kinda mean. And that makes me lash out! You understand, right? You were always so understanding, I always loved that about you.”

Deceit is so tired.

“No, you didn’t,” Deceit pushes him away, if only by virtue of his ex being surprised, “...you loved me because I was obedient. If you loved me at all.”

 

Deceit has the bathroom unlocked and is out before he can reap the consequences of his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Deceit's ex's actions don't seem to make sense, I swear it's on purpose.  
> My ex would get very paranoid about things, and start acting erratically. I still don't understand their reasoning for half the things they did when feeling paranoid, just that they were weird and were prone to being impulsive and weird when convinced I was doing something "wrong."  
> So I'm trying to demonstrate this in Dee's ex - and as for why Dee's ex is paranoid, you'll find out later ;)


	22. Walk Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit leans on his friends for a bit of support, which they're always happy to give.  
> TW: Kissing, mentions of the past, incorrect assumptions about relationships, controlling behaviours (discussed, not shown), grounding, mention of flashbacks :)

“Hey, uh, Logan...”

Logan looks up at Deceit, who fidgets and bites his lip, looking away at the wall.

“Is something wrong?” Logan asks in concern.

“I...no...I...may I share some good news with you…?”

Logan goes to ask “why wouldn’t you” or something along those lines, but Deceit looks so nervous, so worried, that he can only guess his reasoning for asking. So he nods and smiles, getting ready.

“I...I passed my LSATs!!” Deceit’s anxiety slips as his excitement takes over, “and I’ve been accepted into the local law program!!”

Deceit bounces from foot to foot, clapping his hands, and Logan grins widely, standing up and hugging his boyfriend tightly.

“I am very proud of you!!” he says with a smile, “you worked hard, and you deserve it! I’m really happy for you, Dee.”

Deceit smiles, almost shyly, and shakes away his timidness with a “well of course I deserve it” that he doesn’t really believe. Logan still chuckles and kisses his forehead.

“Congratulations, Dee, you will make an _amazing_ lawyer.”

Logan’s voice is so warm, his words so genuine and sincere, and Deceit melts into it, throwing himself into a hug, collapsing onto Logan’s bed in a tangled mess that makes them both laugh. Deceit clings tightly, smiling widely and kisses Logan, not overly gently, and not quite on the lips, but Logan chuckles.

“Kiss me properly,” he says playfully, and kisses Deceit carefully.

Deceit can feel the creeping of the past in his mind, the whispers telling him that Logan’s looking for more, that Deceit is messing things up _again_ and that he needs to stop and back away before it gets worse. Before he can’t back out.

B ut he ignores it  in favour of kissing Logan again before curling up and playing with his boyfriend’s hair, talking about  his excitement for law school.

“You’re going to do fantastic,” Logan tells him, and Deceit looks away as he blushes.

It was nice to be with someone so genuinely happy for him.

 

_Dear Me,_

_Alright, I get it, the past doesn’t want to leave me just yet. You, past me, don’t want to leave right now, I guess. But that’s fine. I mean, I hate it, but it’s fine. We went through a lot, and it’s okay that you, that I’m, still struggling._

_But we’re doing better! We’re doing better and I’m feeling...I’m feeling like I have a future. Sometimes I even feel like I have a positive future. And I think that counts for something._

_I just need you to know, past me, that I’m not...ignoring you. I know we’re hurting, and I can’t stop that hurt right now, but we’re going to do our best to keep going despite the hurt._

_I believe in you, past me, even if I don’t always believe in current me._

_Some day, past me, you’re going to leave him, after all. And it’s still the hardest thing we’ve ever done. But we did it._

_You’re going to do it._

_You’re going to be okay._

 

“Seems like you’re doing well!” Dr Picani smiles at Deceit, who nods, a little hesitantly.

“I...I think I’m doing okay,” he says, not quite fully honest, but not a lie either, “I mean...Logan and I are doing well, and I’m going to Law School…”

“You’ll be a good lawyer,” Dr Picani says, and Deceit rubs the back of his head.

“That’s what Logan says...I’m not convinced, but...”

“Just Logan? How about other people?”

Deceit smirks. “My parents are really proud, yeah,” he grins, “they’re really excited and happy for me, it’s...it’s nice. To tell them stuff.”

“I’m glad to hear that!” Dr Picani beams and claps his hands, “what about your friends?”

“Oh, well, Logan hasn’t said I’m allowed to tell them yet, so I was waiting-” Deceit pauses, realising what he’s said, “...I mean...”

“You don’t need his permission,” Dr Picani tells him softly, “you should let your friends know. And if you asked Logan, I’m sure he’d say the same thing.”

Deceit shuffles awkwardly. “I don’t like talking about stuff like that with Logan,” he admits, “...I worry that if I keep checking with him he’ll get angry with me. But if I don’t, then how do I know that it’s okay that I’m doing things?”

Dr Picani hums, then smiles.

“Discuss that with him. It’s worth talking out these feelings. And I imagine Logan would appreciate it. New relationships can be scary, he’ll be happy that you’re talking about how you’re feeling.”

Deceit nods slightly, and makes a note to do so.

First, though, he seeks out Remy, the enby curled up in one of the art studios with a sketchbook.

“I...I passed my LSATs!” Deceit says quickly, nervously, heart pounding, “I...I’m going to do law!!”

Remy is ecstatic, hugging Deceit tightly and congratulating him, clapping enthusiastically and talking to him about how great the course will be, how good Deceit will be at it, and being as encouraging as possible. And in the end Deceit is crying from how happy Remy makes him, hugging them back and thanking them.

Following Remy, Deceit heads home, seeing Patton, and he shyly tells him the news.

“Oh gosh I’m so proud!!” Patton hugs him tightly, grinning widely, “well done! I’m so glad all that hard work paid off!”

“S-So am I,” Deceit admits, “I...are you...”

He swallows the words, pushing back what he wants to say in favour of thanking him.

Virgil and Roman are just as proud, and Deceit is happy, but starts to feel light headed, and ends up excusing himself, claiming a headache from the excitement. It’s not entirely a lie, he thinks.

He simply lies on his bed, breathing slowly, and closing his eyes.

 

_Dear Me,_

_Compliments are hard. I love them, and I want more, but they’re hard to take. Who knows what people really mean by them, after all?_

_Plus people might be expecting something from me for it. And if I accept the compliment, then they’re going to expect things back! But if I don’t, then they’re going to get angry._

_But I’m happy. Really. I’m happy to be told how proud everyone is, I just don’t really know yet how to handle so much of that._

 

“Hey, Logan, can...can we talk…?”

Deceit wants to try. He wants a good, happy relationship. And if that means talking about uncomfortable emotions, then so be it.

Logan nods, turning around on his chair, and prompts Deceit to take a seat on the bed.

“Is something bothering you?” Logan asks gently, “you seem nervous.”

Deceit hesitates, unsure of how to answer that honestly.

“Not...really. I just...Dr Picani said I should talk about things with you. Um...just a couple relationship things I’m nervous about.”

Logan hesitates, and then nods.

“Of course. I would also like to talk about things.” Then, at Deceit’s horrified expression, “don’t worry, you have done nothing wrong. I just wish to discuss kissing and dates, to clear up boundaries.”

Deceit sighs in relief, and fiddles with his sleeves.

“So...I feel like I should...ask for permission before doing things,” he says, slow, voice trembling a little, “like...like, if I want to tell one of the others something...or if I want to do something new, or go out, or...”

Deceit breathes deeply, Logan reaching out and squeezing his hand gently.

“Thanks, Lo...I just, I’m afraid of doing things without your permission. And I’m worried that this will annoy you, and then you’ll stop liking me, and then we’ll break up and you’ll hate me and-”

“Breathe, you’re catastrophising.”

“Huh?”

“You’re taking something and snowballing it until it reaches a metaphorical breaking point. It _is_ understandable, considering what you’ve been through.” Logan smiles. “If...If it makes you feel any better, I don’t need you to ask me permission for anything. And I promise I won’t be angry with you if you still feel the need to ask. I understand that these things take time.”

Deceit smiles weakly.

“Thank you...I...I think that helps...I’m sorry, I just...it’s so...odd, being in a healthy relationship, and I’m afraid of messing this up.”

Logan shakes his head.

“You’re trying, and that’s what matters. I...I wanted to date you, still want to, knowing your past and the fact that you’re struggling. It doesn’t change how I feel, and when you feel better I’ll still adore you.”

Deceit blushes, and rubs his cheek awkwardly.

“Ah, thank you...I, I like you too. Um...you wanted to discuss…?”

“Oh! Yes!” Logan grins slightly, “first, kissing. I wanted to let you know that I really like kissing you, and with your permission I would...like to kiss you more often.”

Deceit _almost_ squeaks, but retains his composure, just about. Alright, that’s a lie, but he tries, and that’s what matters.

“Um, yes! Just...can you be gentle if it’s out of the blue…?”

Logan nods. “I can. And as for dating, I was just checking if I could take you out next weekend. There’s a science festival that I’d very much appreciate company to. Would you...like to, with me? And if so, what boundaries are there on PDA?”

Deceit chuckles, smiling at the sincere way his boyfriend asks.

“God, I love you.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_I feel a little overwhelmed by the number of friends I have. It can be hard to keep up. I mean, I spent a lot of time without anyone, so I suppose it makes sense that I’m as overwhelmed as I am._

_I tried talking to Virgil about it, but I don’t think he quite got it. Which is fine, I wasn’t great at explaining. But it was still a shame, you know?_

_People think it’s just anxiety or being an introvert, and I’m not sure on how to correct them, or explain it in a way that will make sense._

 

“Uh...hey, Virgil...I was...I was totally not missing you.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “We see each other every day,” he points out, and Deceit bites his lip.

“Sure, but...I was hoping to hang out with you...properly...I, sometimes I feel...like we don’t, as much as I’d like...”

Virgil’s expression softens, and smiles.

“Well...I was going to watch Nightmare Before Christmas with Roman, but he’s had to go to a rehearsal at last minute...so do you want to join me?”

Deceit beams, eyes lighting up as he nods and sits beside Virgil on the sofa, curling up close and appreciating Virgil’s body heat, the softness of his hoodie, and curls into him more.

Virgil was, at least, a consistency. Virgil was there before his ex, and even if they’d been apart for a while, at least Virgil was here _after_ his ex as well. Virgil knew more than Deceit would like people to know, but he was surprisingly okay with it. But that was the effect Virgil had on him.

“You know, we really _do_ see each other all the time,” Virgil says after a bit, “I’m always up for like, talking and...hanging...but you don’t have to worry about it.”

Deceit shuffles nervously.

“...I’m scared of falling out of contact with you when we graduate,” he admits finally, “I’m worried we won’t talk, or that I’ll struggle to- _halloween! Halloween! Halloween!_...sorry.”

Virgil smirks, secretly ashamed that Deceit had sung along to that part and he hadn’t. What would his teenage self say?

“Moron. Look, if you want me to, I’ll just come over and visit you randomly. I’ll message you first, of course, but like...yeah. We can be dumb teenagers again.”

“I’m not getting a tattoo-”

“I didn’t mean _that_ part!”

Deceit laughs, and Virgil lightly hits him with a pillow, huffing slightly. He can’t help but smile though, watching the way Deceit rolls off the sofa chuckling as he talks about Virgil’s old tattoo.

“You’re such a dick,” Virgil says affectionately, chucking the pillow at him.

Deceit squeaks at the pillow, and Virgil smiles at how much progress his friend has made.

 

_Dear Me,_

_Sometimes I feel so out of control. I’m not, I think. I think I’ve just been controlled for too long, and now I feel wrong because I’m the one controlling me. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t make sense._

_Dr Picani insists this is normal, but I’m not so sure. But he’s probably right. He is a professional, after all._

_I don’t feel grounded, I don’t feel safe or secure in myself. I don’t know what I’m meant to do and it feels so wrong that I’m just being allowed to think for myself._

 

Typically Deceit would seek out Logan when experiencing difficulties. But Logan had reassured him many times that he was allowed to go to the others. And Deceit was thankful for that. He didn’t want anyone to think he didn’t care about them. He didn’t want anyone to feel like they were anything less than important to him.

“Patton, whilst I’m not _interested_...do you have any jobs one could do, if they were?”

Patton looks a bit confused, tilting his head as Deceit tries again to ask for something to do without outright asking.

“Not really...uh, why do you ask, kiddo?” Patton smiles.

“...I just...” _Come on, tell him the truth._ “...I’m feeling a bit...out of it. Myself. Control. Something. I don’t know, Pat, I just need something to do.”

It’s not quite the truth. It’s not quite the fear and self doubt that builds up each time he makes a decision. It isn’t quite the way he needs to have someone take control for a few moments. The way he just isn’t _ready_ to be himself. Whoever “himself” was.

Patton hums, sitting up on the kitchen table and swinging his legs, deep in thought. Deceit takes a seat and waits for Patton to finish his thoughts.

“Alright, it sounds like you need to ground yourself,” Patton says, soft and gentle, “grounding isn’t just for flashbacks, after all.”

Deceit winces, looking down at his hands and remembering how Patton had to help him through a bad flashback at the weekend. Crying and begging for help whilst your friend talks you through it is bad enough, but when you’re in the middle of an art gallery and people are watching? That’s just humiliating and _highly_ unpleasant.

“I...don’t know how,” he mutters, “or, I...I guess I do, but I’m still not very good at it.”

He wants to add _as you know_ , but thinks better of it. He didn’t want to upset Patton, not when his friend was being so...kind. All his friends were kind. Always trying their best...

“If you need help with grounding, then I can try help with that,” Patton offers, “in school I knew a kid who would ask for help with his ‘alphabet technique’.”

“Alphabet technique?” Deceit echoes dubiously.

Patton nods. “He’d sit down and recite the alphabet. If he went too fast, skipped a letter or stopped before he was grounded enough then we’d start over.”

“That’s stupid,” Deceit mutters, “...let’s try it.”

Patton chuckles, and gently takes Deceit’s hands.

“Start when you’re ready,” he tells him.

Deceit breathes, shuffles until he’s comfortable and hesitates for a few moments. And then-

“A...B...C...D...E...this is-”

“Let’s start over.”

“...A. B. C. D. E. F. G, H, I-”

“Start again.”

“This is _stupid_.”

“Start again.”

“...A. B. C...”

Deceit isn’t sure how many times he has to start over, but eventually he gets into a steady rhythm. Each letter is slow and steady, and it’s somehow soothing. It’s simple, but he has to focus, has to stay on track, stay in the present.

“...X. Y. Z. A. B...”

Patton murmurs that he’s doing well, and slowly the crushing sensation of struggling for control seems to ease. Eventually Deceit sighs, and lets himself shuffle close to Patton, leaning forwards and resting his head against his friend, closing his eyes.

“Feeling better?” Patton asks gently, wrapping his arms around him and stroking his hair.

“I think so,” mumbles Deceit, “sorry about that...I’m just not feeling too great.”

Patton nods, kissing the top of his head gently. “That’s understandable,” he says, “recovery is difficult. We don’t expect you to have it all together.”

“I _want_ to though,” Deceit mutters, yawning slightly, “I want to be better, Patton...”

“Give it time.”

Somewhere in his head, Deceit wonders if he should bother giving it time. Should bother trying. But with his mind more settled, more at ease, he feels more able to ignore that thought.

 

_Dear Me,_

_The others are all so supportive. And I love that, I really do. I just wonder what life would be like if they’d come into my life sooner. Would they have been able to help? Would I have pushed them away better? Would it have changed anything?_

_I only ask because of Elliot. I really want to help him. I’m just scared of making things worse. I’m scared of so much, and…_

_I have to go. Got an appointment. I’ll finish this letter off later._

 

_That was a lie, it seems. Back from appointment but I’m going to bed. Write some other time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a while, but-  
> Tbh, I hope it's understandable why this updates slow at times. Fear not, it's gonna be finished, I know HOW it's going to finish, it's just...mindsets and fatigue and irl issues...  
> Also the alphabet thing is a thing I do.


	23. End Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan gets bad news, and Deceit struggles with a lot of feelings. Sometimes things are overwhelming, or you don't quite "get" normal problems. And that's okay.
> 
> TW: Rape, abuse, um...panic attacks and flashbacks. A lighter chapter, really...

Deceit was fed up of his _difficulties_.

There were only so many times you could have flashbacks and panic attacks whilst trying to kiss your boyfriend before the whole endeavour began to feel...ridiculous. He wanted to pull Logan close and kiss him and touch him, and generally enjoy being with someone so handsome and intelligent and kind. And instead he was just getting panicked and upset.

“This is stupid,” he complains to Roman, “people like _me_ just don’t get romance, it feels.”

Roman shakes his head, pulling Deceit in for a gentle hug. “Logan loves you dearly. Don’t push yourself, you’ll get the romance you want when it’s right for you.”

Deceit sighs nonetheless, resting against Roman. Whilst he knew Roman was right, he still didn’t _like_ it. He wanted romance. He wanted kisses and dates and to fall asleep cuddling Logan!

Ah yes, falling asleep cuddling Logan...he’d succeeded a couple of times. His last attempt hadn’t ended well. At this point Deceit was certain he would only be upsetting Logan by trying.

His instinct says to avoid Logan, but he knows better now. He’s discussed this with Logan. He can’t just run away from his problems.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to bring it up.

 

_Dear Me,_

_I’m finally able to simply be myself, so why am I always so on edge about it?_

_I tried making a list of things that make me “me”. But it ended up feeling forced, like “I like yellow”. That’s not really something that relates to who I am._

_Maybe I’m overthinking this._

_I just wish things could feel easier._

 

“Elliot, I need to talk to-”

He’s cut off by Elliot shoving him aside and walking off. Deceit follows, of course, running after and begging Elliot to listen. But the enby ignores him, looking somewhere between distressed and angry. And Deceit’s instinct is _fear_ , to back away, to apologise. Do anything and everything to avoid that anger.

“Elliot, please! It’s important, it’s about-”

Elliot spins round at him, tears in their eyes and glaring hard.

“He told me you tried to hook up with him.”

Deceit can hear the tremble in their voice. He can hear the way Elliot doesn’t quite believe it. But his ex was nothing if not an excellent manipulator.

“Oh, totally,” Deceit can’t help the sarcasm nonetheless, “I totally wanted to hook up with my rapist in a dingy public bathroom. It’s not like he tried to force himself on me, not at all.”

Elliot flinches, and Deceit _almost_ feels bad. Almost. He wasn’t prepared to be accused of anything right now, especially not when it involved his ex.

“Elliot, he tried to force himself on me. I’m really, _really_ concerned for you.”

Much better.

Elliot shakes their head though, turning and walking off, only to pause and look back. Just briefly. Just to say-

“You shouldn’t be. I’m fine. Please, leave me alone.”

And Deceit can’t help but feel as if he’s losing a battle. That something bad is going to happen. Soon. He sees it in the bags under Elliot's eyes, the way Elliot stumbles as they walk. The shake in their voice. The dullness in their eyes.

“Call me if you need me,” he shouts, and gets no reply.

 

_Dear Me,_

_What if I’m failing, and what if I’m wrong?_

_Roman says I need to have more faith in myself, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that. Dr Picani says I should look at the things I’ve been able to do and achieve since leaving my ex. I’ve continued with my studies – I’ve kept up a part time job, even if it’s a shitty one. I’ve passed the exams to go to Law School. I’ve made friends, I’ve started dating someone new…_

_These are all great things, and I know that’s not even acknowledging all the ways I’ve improved mentally, but there’s still that doubt in my head. Do you ever recover from the damage abuse does to your self esteem?_

_So yeah. To the me of the past, present and future, what if I’m failing, and what if I’m wrong?_

 

Deceit walks in to see Logan curled up on the sofa. Nobody else is home, and Logan never curls up. At least not so tightly, hugging a pillow close. Deceit doesn’t know _how_ to comfort people when upset. He can see Logan is upset, but he also knows the methods he’s used to comforting with aren’t appropriate right now. If nothing else, he knows that.

(Even if it’s hard to control the urge to give in to his old learned behaviours.)

“Logan? What’s wrong?” he asks, walking over and crouching beside his boyfriend.

Logan’s eyes are filled with tears, puffy and red.

“I failed my scholarship exam,” he whispers, “I...I looked into it, but I can’t go to medical school now...”

Deceit has absolutely _no_ idea on how to help with this. Maybe last year he would have run away, or been harsh, lashed out and put distance between himself and Logan.

Well, that _is_ what he did.

But now?

“That’s awful, no wonder you look so cr-miserable...uh, can I be of any comfort?”

It’s not the best thing he could say, he thinks. But it’s a start. Logan sniffs and shrugs slightly. Then he rolls over slightly and holds out his arms.

“Hold me, please,” Logan whispers, “everything feels... _bad_...”

Deceit nods, climbs onto the sofa and wraps his arms around Logan firmly, holding him close. He feels Logan rest his head against the crook of his neck, sees his boyfriend close his eyes, tears still falling. Deceit isn’t quite sure of what to do, but he rubs Logan’s back gently.

“Thank you,” mumbles Logan, sniffing again, “I just...I’m sorry, this was unexpected. I never fail. I never...I don’t know what to do now...”

“We’ll figure something out,” Deceit tries to reassure him, “I know it’s not...what you want...but you’ll do fantastic regardless of what you do next.”

Logan looks up at him and smiles, weak and small, but a smile nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_So Logan can’t continue his studies. I feel awful. I feel guilty for making such a big deal over my Law School placement...my ex was right, I brag too much._

_He always said I had a superiority complex or whatever._

_And gosh here I am making it about me._

_I had just wanted to talk about how it isn’t fair on him, I swear._

_He really wanted to continue his studies, and it’s not fair that someone as brilliant as him **can’t.**_

 

Deceit remained unsure of how to best to make Logan feel better. He knew that Logan wasn’t like his ex, wouldn’t expect...physical affection, so to speak. So he opted for hugs, holding Logan close. Stroking Logan’s hair, holding his hand. Trying to silently reassure him that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He was pretty sure Logan appreciated it. Sometimes Logan would reach for his hand, and their fingers would interlock. Logan would glance at him and smile, just slightly. Just enough for Deceit’s heart to flutter. Slow, gentle, careful.

“If I were like you,” Deceit says to Virgil one day, teasingly, “I’d be writing poetry and posting it on _Myspace_.”

Virgil had reacted as he expected – by chucking the empty cereal box at him and calling him a traitor. And then Patton walked in on Deceit pinning Virgil down to tickle him, and told _Deceit_ not to start fights.

“It’s not a fight and I didn’t start it,” argues Deceit, and he’s _technically_ right. Sort of. Not really.

Well, he wasn’t called Deceit for no reason.

“What’s Logan’s plan?” Virgil asks him another day, whilst Logan was out, “he hasn’t talked to us about it since he, you know, failed...”

“I, uh, don’t know,” Deceit hates admitting it, “I think he’s just focusing on passing...a Biology major with a Physics minor has to be worth something, after all.”

Virgil nods slightly, and then they change subjects because Logan comes back in with an inflatable duck stuck to his shoulder.

“Specs, I’m gonna have to ask,” Virgil says dryly, staring at the duck that Logan _peels_ off. “What the fuck is that and why the fuck do you have it?”

“Remy gave it me,” Logan mutters, carrying the duck over, “I’m going to hide it in Roman’s wardrobe when he leaves his rubbish lying around.”

“I respect that, and approve greatly,” Deceit says with a smirk, “...let’s name it Jeremy.”

“Why Jeremy?”

“It just looks like a Jeremy.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_I’m not sure how to comfort other people._

_I want to help Elliot, and I want to make Logan feel better. But I have no idea how to do it. And what happens if I have some sort of issue half way through helping them? It will just upset them more and they’ll all think I’m selfish._

_Maybe I am._

_I hope not._

_I’m trying._

 

Deceit was so tired. Everything was tiring, and he wasn’t even sure why. But after a stressful session with Dr Picani all he wanted to do was lie down in bed and sleep. Or, at the very least, rest and not worry about everything going on. It was a little lonely of an idea, but he didn’t want to be around others right now.

Their voices felt grating on his ears, he felt prickly and uncomfortable being near anyone, and he could _feel_ himself becoming irritable. And they deserved better, so he was going to try and ignore it.

But eventually the emotional exhaustion caught up, and he wasn’t prepared to be with other people. So even though Patton and Roman were talking softly about enjoyable things, it _hurt._ It hurt his ears, made his skin crawl, and he simply says he’s tired and goes to his room.

With the door shut and himself curled up in bed, he feels safer. Not _better_ , but safer. He was trying, really hard, but the urge to isolate himself and pretend everything was better that way was strong.

“A, B, C...” he quietly whispers the letters to himself, taking deep breaths between each one. Slow, steady, start again, repeat.

He hears a knock at the door, and calls that he wants to be alone. He tries not to snap or shout, because it’s not _their_ fault he feels this way. None of them have done anything wrong.

_They’re not wrong. I’m wrong._

And then he recognises the negative self-talk and hisses at himself that he’s _not_ wrong. He’s just mentally ill and emotionally exhausted. It happens, and it’s fine.

“I shouldn’t be so harsh on myself,” he murmurs, and tries to believe it.

“I’m doing well, this is a good thing for me to do, take myself away to recover,” he hisses quietly, and tries _so hard_ to believe it.

Sometimes believing himself and what he felt was right was just difficult. How did he know this wasn’t the start of isolating himself all over again? What if this was a step backwards and not a way to remove himself from a difficult emotional situation?

He clutches his head and curls up more as the thoughts get louder and more chaotic in his head. He briefly wonders if his past self was right, and if dying would be simpler, easier, a better and more permanent way to get rid of these thoughts.

And then he shushes that part of himself.

He was alive, and even on the days when his head felt chaotic, he had to hold on to the fact that he was _finally_ able to live his life.

 

_Dear Me,_

_Dr Picani says that being forced to stay awake until you give in and say yes to sex is coercion and rape. I mean, I knew my ex was a rapist, but sometimes I just don’t believe it, you know?_

_It can be hard to acknowledge what happened, and I guess I just blurt things out sometimes, and people look at me oddly and say “that’s not normal”, “that’s disturbing”, “what the hell”. And I don’t know how I feel about that. Sometimes I’d like to talk about my experiences without knowing it’d freak everyone out._

_I tried talking to Patton about the sleep thing. He cried. He really couldn’t handle it, and I stopped pretty quickly._

_I just wish I could talk about these things, you know?_

 

“What’s the point of doing my work any more?” Logan mutters one Thursday evening, resting his head on a pile of Physics notes. “It’s all for nothing.”

Deceit blinks, not used to hearing such an all-or-nothing attitude from his boyfriend, and definitely not such a defeatist one.

“You’ll get a degree from it,” he offers, a little weakly, “your GPA is great, you’ll get a high level degree-”

“But I can’t go to Med School,” Logan snaps slightly, shoulders shaking, “everything I wanted, just vanished. I can’t even go to Grad School like I originally planned. What’s the _point_ any more...”

There’s a pause, silence between them. The bedroom feels empty, like there’s nothing but them existing. And Deceit is _concerned_.

“...Are you...okay?” Deceit asks finally, “you...sound incredibly depressed over this.”

He wants to turn and run, and hates himself for it. The urge to avoid distressing situations, the urge to get out of situations he can’t control, the urge to get out before things get bad…

He resists. Logan is hurting, and he needs to be there for him.

“...I just can’t believe I failed,” Logan admits, “...I worked so hard, I was so certain...I _never_ fail, and now I have and I just...don’t know what to do. I was so sure I’d pass, that I didn’t consider a plan b. What do I do with my degree? What do I do after university?”

“...I don’t know,” Deceit says softly, but wraps an arm gently around him, “but...I’m here for you. Maybe you should talk to Dr Picani about this?”

“...Maybe...”

And slowly Logan relaxes into the hold.

 

_Dear Me,_

_Normal problems. Real and valid problems. But not problems I easily identify with, I admit. Does that make me a bad person? I hope not. I try to be a good person, I swear._

_But I think I did an okay job reassuring Logan._

_I hope Dr Picani can help him, he deserves to know that things aren’t over. Even if he can’t do what he hoped to do, he can do something else. And I know he’ll do it brilliantly. Because that’s Logan for you. And someday, when I feel brave enough, I’ll tell him that he’s brilliant, that he’ll do brilliantly whatever he does and wherever he goes._

 

Logan does indeed go to Dr Picani, and Deceit and Virgil help him sort through the piles of leaflets and papers he’s given.

“So there’s a lot of opportunities?” Virgil asks, a little dry, “I guess you’re good to go after all, especially with your grades.”

“There’s a paid internship here,” Deceit offers, holding up an advertisement, “in a biology lab, looking at medical research.”

Logan’s eyes light up a little, and Deceit feels relieved as he takes the paper, marks it with a big green tick, and puts it aside in a “look into” pile. Virgil passes him a job advertisement in Bioengineering, and it gets a green tick as well.

Slowly but surely, Logan forms a small pile of opportunities to look into. Something to do, something he can do, something to show him that everything will be okay. He collapses into the “discard” pile, papers flying everywhere, but doesn’t care. Instead he simply lies down and closes his eyes.

“...I still feel shit,” he admits, “...I’m going to feel bad for a while, I think. But...I appreciate you two helping me.”

The swear is odd to hear, in a way, but Deceit can’t help but smile. Virgil ruffles Logan’s hair gently.

“Any time, nerd. Don’t worry, we’ll get you through this. Feel crap for as long as you need, just let us help you, alright?”

Logan chuckles slightly, slightly weak but not too much.

“Alright. Thank you, both of you.”

Deceit sees him look at him, almost hopefully, and can’t help but smile, leaning forwards slowly and kissing his cheek. He wasn’t confident right now about kissing in front of Virgil, but Virgil seems to get the message, briefly giving a sarcastic remark before leaving.

“Again, thank you,” Logan tells him, softer and gentler.

“It’s no problem...”

Deceit waits until Logan asks, and then kisses him gently, a peck before Logan rests against him, holding his hand until he falls asleep.

 

_Dear Me,_

_Logan definitely still feels down. But he’s doing his work again. I think Patton is making him, to be fair. Sometimes Patton makes me do mine. I understand that feeling of depression, of everything being shit. And like, sometimes nothing’s really wrong. I’ll just not be okay._

_I’m sorry, I’m talking about me again. Is it weird just to talk about myself to myself? I should be talking about the others. Like how Roman stole a rabbit and it ate his homework last Tuesday._

_But instead I’m here talking about myself, even when Logan’s going through his own issues. Am I a bad friend, a bad boyfriend? My PTSD affects my socialising, I know – just look at last night’s panic attack. But I’m trying._

_I just want to be okay._

_I don’t want my past to be the end of me, I guess._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here and still going with this, fear not!! ^.^


	24. Breathin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Domestic abuse (parental and relationship), homophobia, anger, flashbacks/panic attacks, nightmares.
> 
> Dealing with the effects of abuse and PTSD means finding ways to manage your condition, allowing yourself to feel, and finding a new future for yourself. Deceit thinks he can do this.

“Roman, we’re going to be late, do you have to take _all_ those books?”

Deceit smirks at Logan’s words, the logical man sighing heavily as Roman shoves in another Shakespeare play.

“But I need _all_ of them!”

“Next time, listen to the tutor. That way you’ll know exactly which book to bring, instead of panicking at the last minute,” Logan says bluntly.

Deceit snickers slightly at Roman’s indignant gasp, and shakes his head.

“Just grab the ones most likely to be used, Ro, or we’re going without you,” he teases lightly, “I’ve got philosophy and I _really_ need to be seen as a good student after last year...”

There’s a loud huff, but soon enough Roman is saying goodbye to Virgil and Patton, and running after them, complaining about how mean they are. But Deceit still smiles, feeling at peace with the casual and friendly complaints.

“Doing okay, Mister...um...damn I have no nickname ideas this morning...”

Deceit chuckles and nods.

“I think I am, yeah.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_Elliot hasn’t spoken to me since the incident, and they’ve changed classes. I don’t know if that’s because of me, because of my ex, or if that’s one and the same reason right now._

_I mean, I feel like working against my ex is just causing more and more trouble. And I don’t want trouble...I also don’t want Elliot in trouble. Everything feels like so much more, if that makes sense. And honestly – the irony there – even if it doesn’t make sense, I don’t care. My emotions aren’t here to make sense, they’re here to just **be**._

_And that should be okay._

_I think._

 

Deceit wakes up at 11pm every night, if he manages to fall asleep before then. And then he’s unable to sleep again until 2am. He finds himself breathing deeply, shaking in his bed and trying desperately to calm himself.

“A...B...C...” he keeps it up, slowly going through the alphabet until the initial wave of panic passes, slowly fading in lieu of the slightly less intense anxiety.

He knew perfectly well why this strange night time habit kept up. The memories, the way he was used to being awake at this time...or being woken up…

“It’s fine,” he tells himself, curling up, “I’m safe now. He’s not here. I’m safe.”

Years of lying to himself catch up, and he just can’t believe his own words. And he hates it. He can’t trust himself, and sometimes he still catches himself not trusting others. There’s no winning, it seems. Or perhaps that’s a cognitive distortion caused by sleep deprivation and trauma.

“...it’s okay,” he whispers again, trying his best and tightening his grip on the blanket wrapped around him, “it’s fine...just a couple of hours and we can go back to sleep...”

It was hard. It was always hard. Every night, dealing with the same worries and flashbacks and intrusive thoughts and internal conflict. It was tiring, and yet he still couldn’t sleep.

Not until two am, at the very least.

And then it’s back to the nightmares.

 

_Dear Me,_

_I hate conflict and hearing people argue. Anger makes me nervous. Logan and Virgil argued who was going to wash the dishes the other day, and I had to go hide in my room for a bit. I don’t think they realised why, thankfully. I don’t like admitting my anxiety over that._

_Sometimes I just freeze up. I guess I feel like...if I just stay still and don’t do anything, maybe I’ll be safe. It was usually the safest way to deal with my ex, after all. Just stay still, don’t mess up. If you don’t do anything, you’ll get yelled at but you probably won’t get hit._

_Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m doing better! But some of the fears just won’t budge. I guess we can heal the wound, but scars take longer to fade._

_Which sucks, not gonna lie. I hate it._

 

“I hate feeling angry at him,” Deceit admits to Dr Picani, “I feel like I’m supposed to forgive him and just...move on with my life. But it’s _hard_ , and he’s just...walked back into my life. Even if I don’t see him a lot, he’s _there_...you know?”

Deceit looks down at his lap, fidgeting with his hands, picking at his nails. Maybe he should ask Remy to do his nails, the enby was great and had so many colours. Maybe black. Or yellow. Or both…

He sighs, trying to keep his mind on track in time to hear Dr Picani.

“You don’t have to forgive him,” Dr Picani replies gently, “you’re allowed to feel angry.”

Angry. The word, the feeling, it runs through him like a jolt of electricity. All the times he was denied the chance to be angry, to fight back, to argue that his treatment was _wrong_. All the times his boyfriend then lashed back out in anger, snapping and shouting and hurting him.

Anger was bad, surely. He didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t want to risk being like _him_.

“Of course I have to forgive him,” mutters Deceit, folding his arms, “that’s what you do, right? The narrative is always forgiveness, moving on and all that shit...but I don’t feel... _able_ to.”

Forgive and forget – he was so fed up of the narrative that forgiveness was the end goal. He didn’t want to forgive him. He didn’t want to pretend he could ignore or get over or be okay or whatever else _forgiveness_ was meant to be. A lack of anger perhaps? How could he not feel angry at his treatment?

“And that’s okay,” Dr Picani insists, “your feelings are valid.”

Deceit blinks, jerking his head up to stare at the counsellor, who smiles warmly. There was something nice about that sentiment. He just wasn’t sure how much he believed that right now.

“...I feel fixated. How is that...”valid”? It’s like an obsession, Picani. I feel stuck in these feelings, and I can’t get myself free...”

Deceit breathes deeply, fiddling with his nails again. However calm he was, he inevitably ended up feeling like he was being overdramatic, especially in these sessions.

“I...I know I’m getting better,” he adds softly, “I’m being more social, and I’m doing the things I need to do to help stay...in the present. But sometimes I feel like I’m not getting better...fast enough, you know? I’m sure I’ve been in recovery for far too long.”

He frowns when Dr Picani chuckles slightly, but the counsellor simply shakes his head.

“There’s no such thing as too long,” the counsellor reassures him, “everyone heals at different rates, Dee. You don’t need to worry about time. You’re healing at your own pace, and that’s exactly how it should be.”

Deceit groans, because he knows that Dr Picani is right. Healing was slow and tiring and took so much time and energy. Sometimes he just hated having to acknowledge it.

“It’s going to be worth it, right?” he asks, trying to pretend the question wasn’t cutting deep.

“It will be,” Dr Picani reassures him again, “it’s going to be okay, and it’s going to be worth it.”

And so Deceit smiles, just slightly.

“Thank you.”

 

_Dear Me,_

_So apparently there’s such a thing in abused children, or children from dysfunctional families, called “toxic family roles”. People tend to fall into different roles, like “the troublemaker” or “the lost child”. I was trying to see if there’s anything similar for domestic abuse survivors._

_And wow, can we acknowledge that I just referred to myself as a domestic abuse survivor?_

 

Deceit throws his arms around Virgil from behind, the typically anxious boy not even blinking, simply continuing to work.

“Hey Dee,” Virgil says, not looking up, “you good?”

“...yeah, actually...been practising those breathing exercises you do...they’re helping more now.”

Virgil looks up and smiles, relaxing Deceit a bit. “That’s good. I told you, you gotta practice these things to get the most out of them.”

Deceit nods, humming to himself as Virgil goes back to working, then lets go, instead coming around to sit beside him. It wasn’t that long ago that he would have _hated_ admitting Virgil was right. That anyone was right. Sometimes admitting people were right felt like vulnerability, which was something Deceit hated, even as he tried not to.

“Hey, Virgil, can I ask you a sensitive question?” he asks finally, breaking the pesudo-silence.

(It wasn’t really silent, Virgil was a loud writer. _Scratch scratch scratch_.)

Virgil closes his book, putting it down before breathing deeply and nodding.

“Sure. I, uh, I guess so...go for it.”

“I can-”

“Go for it, seriously.”

Deceit still hesitates before asking, and blurts it out like Virgil so often did - “how did you deal with your parents? Did they try to put themselves back into your life?”

He internally curses himself for a moment for asking what he was actually wondering. He just needed advice from someone else, someone who had been through similar things.

“I mean...kind of. It took me a while to find a way to move out...things were rough in the meantime...” Virgil takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “They...called me a lot of names. My mum hit me a lot. My dad kept threatening to kick me out. It wasn’t a good time in my life.”

“I...I’m sorry...”

Deceit is sorry for asking. And sorry for messing up and letting his ex take his phone. No, no, that wasn’t his fault. It _wasn’t_. But he still felt bad, and was still sorry for it.

“It’s fine...I mean, it is now. I moved out as soon as I could, which was in my Junior year, towards the end. Got a job cleaning the local hospital, found a friend to move out to...you remember Kai, right?”

Deceit thinks for a moment. “...The skateboarder who claimed he didn’t play games competitively cause he was embarrassed?” he asks, and Virgil nods.

“Yeah. He was a good guy...ended up going to freaking Harvard. I think he’s working on being a games developer, the nerd...” Virgil smiles fondly before sighing. “My parents pestered us a lot. A lot of phone calls, asking if I was there. A lot of threats. One time they turned up and we had to call the police.”

“That’s awful...” Deceit murmurs, looking down. “You...You’re really brave...ugh no, I hate that phrase...”

Virgil just chuckles though, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, I know what you mean. But, um...in the end, I got a restraining order and basically disowned myself. Uh, _emancipated._ It was a scary process.”

Deceit tilts his head, a bit confused. “Emancipated? ...restraining order? You can do that?”

He still can’t quite believe that he can ask that sort of question without being mocked and laughed at. The words of his ex run through his head, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, hard to think. The thoughts of how _stupid_ he is run through his head. He can hear his ex’s voice, loud and harsh in his ears. He can feel the sting of the inevitable slap.

_No! No, we can handle this – breathe – breathe deep, we can do this!_

He’s certain that Virgil is there, that Virgil is concerned or trying to help, but he just can’t register it. It’s too much, or too little, or _something_.

_No...no, we have to do this. We can do this._

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to hold it in, and then slowly releases it. He can’t remember the number of seconds it’s meant to be, not right now. But he still breathes, deep and slow. Holds it then lets it go. He forces himself into a rhythm.

It’s not a quick fix.

But slowly, the sting fades, his thoughts settle, just a little, and his ex’s voice becomes softer, harder to hear. And then he can feel Virgil’s hands gently resting on his shoulders, can hear his voice, firm and yet calm and comforting. There’s no pressure, just gentle reassurance that he’s _safe_ and will be okay.

“I...I’m sorry,” he mumbles, breathing in slowly, “...I didn’t mean to...I mean...ugh...”

“It’s okay...how are you feeling?” Virgil rubs his back gently.

Deceit isn’t actually sure, and hesitates over his response. The urge to just _lie_ was a bit too much. But he was _trying_ , so _hard_ , to tell the truth. He didn’t want to fall back into old habits. Who knew what other old habits he could fall into that way? He didn’t want to risk it.

“...I’m not sure. Okay, I think. I think I can manage...”

Virgil helps him back up onto the sofa – when had he fallen off? Deceit hated being so unaware of these things.

Virgil holds Deceit close, gently reassuring him with soft words, continuing until Deceit relaxes fully, the wave of self doubt and fear finally passing.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, “...I appreciate your help...”

“It’s no-”

The door swings open all of a sudden, causing both to jump as Logan comes running in, excitedly waving a letter.

“I got the medical internship!”

And like that the mood becomes better, excited, with Virgil and Deceit making sure to congratulate him as much as possible.

He deserved it.

 

_Dear Me,_

_I think the five stages of grief apply to abusive relationships, sometimes. The denial that there is or was a problem. Then there’s the depression, and the anger...the bargaining I guess is more within the relationship once you do the denial part._

_Alright, I suppose it’s more denial then bargaining then depression then anger._

_I think for me at least, I’m finally understanding the damage he did. The damage he chose to do. And I’m finally getting angry over it. I hate it, I don’t want to be angry, but I didn’t deserve that. Whatever he said, I deserved better._

_I’m just afraid of anger, including my own._

 

Deceit has to take a deep breath sometimes. It was getting easier to feel anger. Not anger _at_ anyone, really. Just a deep, underlying anger about how he was treated. Anger at his ex-boyfriend for ruining so many years of his life, perhaps. All he knew was that sometimes it _burned_.

He breathes deeply as he prepares to enter his philosophy class. He was okay. He could do this. He just had to breathe. Count to ten, take a nice deep breath, and relax his muscles. He could do this. He could be calm, and he could control himself.

His anger at his ex and his abuse still burned, lingering like a fog around his mind, but he could sit and focus on the debate without getting angry and storming out. And he considered that to be an improvement, so he was happy.

After the class, his professor keeps him behind.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks nervously.

“Not at all!” the professor smiles, “you’re attending the law programme after this year, correct?”

Of course, Deceit nods, biting his lip. Surely the professor was going to tell him to give up? To quit, and not even try to do it?

“Well, I have an opportunity for a part time job in a law firm. It’s only a receptionist, don’t get me wrong, but they give frequent opportunities for internships and experience to law students that work for them. I think you should apply. You’d be good at it.”

Deceit blinks, and then frowns. He didn’t trust this.

“Why? Why me?”

To his surprise, the teacher doesn’t react as if caught out. They simply sift through some papers before smiling back at him again.

“”Because I’ve seen your progress, and think this will help you progress even further. You’ve shown a good work ethic, clear compassion, and dedication towards law. So, do you want me to email you the details so that you can apply?”

Deceit has to take a moment for the information to sink in. Work ethic, compassion and dedication? He wasn’t sure he should believe that. Hadn’t he been told he was lazy and selfish and ruined things?

_No, that was my ex. He told me those things, so I shouldn’t believe him._

So really, there was only one answer.

“Yes please, I want to take this opportunity.”

And the anger feels a little less intense, but still there, fuelling something larger, something he couldn’t quite yet recognise.

But he thinks he’s ready for this, to take the leap of faith and apply for something new and exciting.

And the _something_ inside burns brighter still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 7 chapters left-  
> (Well, 6 and an epilogue)  
> Get ready - any guesses on what's gonna happen?


End file.
